


3DPD

by depletedmeter



Category: A3! (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Eventual Romance, Gaming, M/M, Online Friendship, Slow Build, at times humor and at times suffering, liberal use of coarse language and chat log format, or rather Mankai-less parallel timeline
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2019-06-20 08:33:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 83,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15530322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/depletedmeter/pseuds/depletedmeter
Summary: The story of how Taruchi met Neo and learnt to like 3D people again.





	1. Chigasaki Itaru just wants to live a quiet life* (*with unearned income)

**Author's Note:**

> A humble contribution to a fandom that made me feel like creating and sharing fanworks again after a few blank years. It may be choppy, cliché, and unabashedly self-indulgent, but if it manages to entertain anyone, I'll consider it a great success!

Itaru had used up all his self-imposed bathroom break allowances, fake call from home allowances, and “I need some fresh air” allowances. If only he had refill items for those, too. Wouldn’t that be convenient. He had an event to rank first on, damn it all.

By his calculations, the stamina meter was about to overflow again, and the amount of wasted stamina was inversely proportional to the quality of his mood and willingness to entertain his tipsy coworkers, who were toasting once more, (thankfully) oblivious to his predicament.

Maybe they were drunk enough that they wouldn’t notice him sneaking away. Not that he was needed at a drinking party, and he wasn’t even getting paid for it. So all he had to do was casually get up, break free from that cramped corner while muttering a few apologies to those he was accidentally kicking (okay, a bit on purpose, at times), walk past that pillar, and…

…unfortunately, his boss caught him.

“Ah, Chigasaki, the man of the hour!” He gave him an overly friendly pat on the back. “Congratulations on an excellent job! My, my, keep it up and you’ll get far!”

He did his best to smile and exchange some pleasantries while the man pulled him back to the table. “I don’t deserve this much praise, if I’ve succeeded it’s all thanks to your guidance…”

“No need to be modest, boy, the figures speak for themselves! I knew I could trust my eye!” His boss kept on babbling about the great success that was the western section revitalization project and throwing exclamation points around; Itaru kept on smiling meekly. “Everyone, let’s toast for Chigasaki! Next round’s on me!”

“Cheers!”

Of course, the more he wanted to disappear, the more eyes he had on him.

At any rate, Itaru couldn’t believe he was taking part in such a cookie-cutter exchange. Was that all there was to corporate life? Parrot similar lines at office drinking parties until he was high up enough on the food chain to parrot the other half? Could he please just go home and apply himself to doing something immensely more stimulating, like repeating the optimized event menu over and over while monitoring his rank?

Apparently, that hadn’t been enough, as his boss’s next move was to wrap an arm around Itaru’s neck and pull him close, too close. It was becoming increasingly difficult to keep his business smile with the bossman’s alcoholic breath assaulting his nostrils.

“Let me tell you a secret. Hic!” He didn’t want to hear any secrets. “Did you know, the president has a daughter around your age." Yeah, he didn't like where that was going. At all. "And she’s quite a looker, too. So what do you say,” he sleazily wiggled his eyebrows, eyes unfocused, “should I put in a good word for you? I'm sure they'd love to welcome some young talent into the family.”

No, hell no. Itaru had no time or interest in 3D women. Not that he could say that out loud, so an alternate method to brush him off without lasting damage would be very welcome right at that moment. Any excuse would be good. Sadly, the only ideas coming to mind had to do with vows of monkhood and similarly far-fetched stories, which would cause more trouble than they would fix. But, hey, his goofball of a boss was drunk. Time to try?

“I’m afraid Chigasaki’s taken.”

While he was daydreaming of escaping, unexpected help had come in the form of Utsuki Chikage, nosy senior extraordinaire. But what did he just…?

“Huh?”

“Eh?” Chikage’s line, wherever it came from, didn’t deter the man. “That’s too bad, but you’re still young, aren’t you? Fool around for a few years if you’d like, but you can’t miss this golden opportunity, son, think about your future,” he insisted, shaking his head.

He wasn’t too sure devoting the rest of his life to that company, marrying into money or not, was a pleasant prospect for his future.

“I don’t think he’s fooling around, unfortunately. He seems to be quite serious about her,” Chikage said.

“What?”

He was not wrong, but... seriously, what?

“That so? Ha, so we got a real Romeo here!” Again, his pest of a boss started patting, or rather beating, his shoulder. It was uncomfortable. “And what kind of beauty caught the eye of our superstar rookie?”

“Uh…”

“Hm. Let’s say she’s kind of flat.”

Itaru shot a glare at his smirking senior. Joining the company a couple years earlier didn’t mean he was allowed to insult his wife and live to tell the story. Not that he was even supposed to know about her.

His boss burst into laughter. “I get you, keeps the innocent charm a while longer, doesn’t it? But you gotta love big and soft and round—”

On the other hand, turning an awkward conversation about his relationship status into harmless boob size talk might have been a brilliant move. Nice one, Senpai! Utsuki Chikage was indeed a man one would want as an ally, rather than as an enemy.

But, seriously, could someone just shove a sock or a few in his boss’s mouth? He never asked to hear about the size ratio of his favorite gravure idols and their alleged nipple colors. Who cared about 3D boobs anyway.

 

→

 

In the end, he’d wasted about two hours worth of stamina. It was hard not to let that show on his face. The sultry late summer weather didn’t help, either.

He was sure that Neo bastard was a few million points ahead, already. He almost didn’t dare to take a look at the ranking board, but he had to be strong. For her. Taking the top position for his one and only love was the least he could do.

With everyone huddling and chitchatting around the entrance, all that was left to do was get the hell away as quickly and elegantly as possible. He exchanged a few polite goodbyes with those who were still sober enough to be offended if he didn’t. His poor boss, completely plastered, was swaying from side to side and singing old enka at the top of his lungs, an ass-kisser on each arm supporting his weight.

“Looks like someone overdid it. Again.” Chikage sighed beside him. “Want a ride?”

Accepting the offer would mean making small talk and keeping his phone hidden for another half hour. No thank you.

“Ah, thanks, but I’d rather walk home today. I need some fresh air, and the breeze feels quite nice this evening.”

“I can’t feel any breeze here, fresh or otherwise, but as you like.” He started walking towards his car, then turned around. “Oh, by the way.”

“Yes?”

“Ouka High’s close by, so you better be careful with encounters in dark alleys, if you know what I mean.”

He didn’t know what he meant, but he had more pressing matters to attend to.

“I see, thank you, Senpai. See you next Monday!” One last bright smile, and he was done.

“Good luck.”

 

→

 

Finally, far enough from his colleagues’ prying eyes. He chose a random narrow street, rested his back on the side of a vending machine and grabbed his phone. The sight of the runway results screen made him sigh out of relief. Alright, back to the grind. Now loading…

“Unknown error? You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

He was cursed, he had to be, having to restart the game when every single minute was of crucial importance. As if that weren’t enough, there was some patch to download, and that area had low signal. Just… shit. He kept walking down the street, hoping to see the progress bar move at all, but it didn’t budge no matter how intensely he stared at it. In the end, after walking an indeterminate amount of steps, the bar finally moved. Hallelujah!

At the same time, he bumped into something soft, at least softer than a wall.

He stepped back muttering a curse, and then he saw around five boys, each one of them wearing a modded gakuran, a wolfish grin, and various hairstyles and accessories that screamed _hey, this guy is bad news_. Delinquents A to E, then. Five too many for his liking. So that’s what the dark alley encounter thing was about.

He tried to retreat, but almost tripped on something that felt suspiciously like a metal pipe, and then it was too late: before he knew it, one of the hooligans had him pinned against the wall. Itaru had consumed enough entertainment media to know where that was going.

“Yo, mister.” Gulp. That one sounded like the alpha of the pack, so Delinquent A. “It’s late and we’re getting a bit peckish, ya see. Care to treat us?” he said, and with the hand he wasn’t using to grab Itaru’s perfectly ironed collar, he tapped the pocket his wallet was peeking from.

Oh, so they just wanted money. Possibly the best scenario out of the few he’d considered. Anyhow, he just needed to get that bunch off his back as soon as possible, so he simply opened his wallet and took the first note he found. It felt big enough to satisfy those kids. Not much of a loss if he considered it an extra transaction for an efficiency boost during the last hours of the event.

However, right as he was about to hand it over, a lazy slurred voice resonated from a few steps down the street.

“Yooo. I heard O High was strong, so I came to visit, but,” the voice kept coming closer, “turns out you’re so pitiful you need to hunt in packs to catch a single prey, eh? Just like hyenas.”

…For real? Like, for real? Did a real life human being just use a cliché line worthy of some yankee manga from about four decades ago? The newly arrived Delinquent F deserved a round of applause, but sadly his hands were occupied with his phone and wallet.

“Fuck, it had to be Settsu of all people. Let’s split,” A-kun growled.

Then B-kun quipped, “Didn’t this guy get crushed by Hyo—”

“Just fucking go.” Wow, Delinquent A was such a beta.

And so they skedaddled. Alright, extortion evaded. The one good thing happening that disastrous evening. The patch must have finished downloading by then, so he could finally get back to the quest for the golden crown to show his undying love for his precious. No more setbacks or distractions allowed: this would be an evening for the two of them only.

“Tch. Buncha wimps. You alright, man?”

Oh, right. Delinquent F was still around. Dammit.

“I’m peachy, thank you.” No time to waste. With his eyes fixed on the Cutie Catwalk title screen, he shoved the money, still between his fingers, at F-kun’s general direction. “Get yourself something nice for your trouble. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I really need to get going.” He walked away.

“Er, thanks, I guess.”

And with a tap, there she was, his sweetheart, his unwavering constant, donning that frilly and flowery ultra rare spring dress that had taken him so many hours (and gem purchases) to get. Good evening, Sacchi.

“Staying up late is the enemy of beauty! Sweet dreams, my dear manager ♥”

Time for goodnight lines already? That meant there were less than three hours left until the end of the event. Screw social gatherings. Screw his coworkers, and screw Chikage especially for forcing him to come.

“Wait!” That was Delinquent F’s voice.

Nope.

“Oi, wait up!” the kid insisted.

Itaru picked up his pace. Screw Delinquent F, too. Read the atmosphere, man, can’t you tell when someone wants you to get lost?

“Hey, I’d like some attention too! Just a tiny bit of your time… okay?”

_I’m right here, Sacchi!_

He tapped her.

“Ehehe, that tickles! You know that’s my weak spot…” Ahhh, she was so cute. The best. The very best. He wanted to eat her up.

“I said wait!”

That guy was persistent. Itaru picked up his pace once more. Why wouldn’t he just go away, go away, go away…

In the end, the footsteps trailing behind him stopped. “Whatever, then.”

Exactly. _Whatever_ was exactly it. Good boy, Delinquent F!


	2. NEO Universe

The ride back home turned into an odd display of hands-free body equilibrium as he hurriedly racked up event points through the train’s sudden stops and turns. On that particularly cursed day, a free seat would have been too much to ask for. Gotta work on that luck stat. At least, that Neo guy wasn’t making as much of a nuisance of himself as usual: despite holding the top rank, he hadn’t gotten a single extra point since he got out of the drinking party. Had he thrown in the towel, or was he simply waiting for Itaru to be on his heels for an extra dose of adrenaline during the last minutes of the race? Not that he cared much; no way he losing. Not when his Sacchi was at stake.

He made his way to his apartment racewalking at a speed that, for such an untrained body, could only be described as miraculous. With his eyes locked on the screen the whole way, the only reason he didn’t get run over by a few cars was that he simply didn’t have the time for it.

When he got home, he was panting, his throat aching due to the sudden exercise, but it didn’t matter much at that moment. He plopped down on the couch and kept on repeating runway trials without a break. It took him enough time, but he finally managed to snatch the top position out of Neo’s hands. Not that the guy was putting up much of a fight. However, a win was a win.

But seriously, what was Neo doing? No signs of activity yet. Had he never heard that tale about tortoises and hares? _Either way, too bad for you_ , he thought as he aggressively pressed the “purchase gems” button, _because this tortoise is a hare in disguise_. It sounded cool enough in his mind.

And so he kept on tapping like a maniac.

 

→

 

With nothing but a few minutes left on the timer, there was no way for Neo to close the gap anymore. Victory was his.

“I made it… we made it, Sacchi,” he exhaled, and blew a kiss to a plastic figure of a pink haired girl holding the spot of honor inside a glass cabinet.

He finally had the chance to get out of his sweaty suit. He sluggishly discarded his necktie, shirt and pants somewhere on the floor, and made his way to his room. It was time to party. Taking a bath? Sleep? What was that? The best way to celebrate the end of an event was to bully a few scrubs and, conveniently, a new PVP map had recently been added to his main MMO.

 

Ah, yes, he deserved that relaxing session of mindless player hounding after a hard day’s work. Trapping a few unsuspecting newbies in his stunlock hell and watching their HP plummet as they uselessly struggled to break free, now that was a real joy.

Unfortunately, his soul spa time was cut short by a whirl of purple dashing through the screen and dispatching his teammates, one by one, with infuriatingly elegant bladework. He’d seen that beast of a player way too many times not to recognize him.

He scowled at the screen. “Neo…”

The name that popped up in CuCa, in Final Fallacy LXIV, in PUBE, in Battlemeadow, in every damn game he played: Neo on leaderboards, Neo in instances and open world maps, Neo everywhere.

Soon enough, it was only the two of them standing. Neo kept a safe distance, idling among a few useless pixel corpses, but he seemed to have no intention of going away. He was firmly planted in his field of view. In all honesty, Itaru was exhausted, but there was no way he could ignore Neo’s wordless challenge.

He charged in, mashing the key assigned to his stun ability, but his opponent was quite good at staying right out of range. They spent a while evading each other, ranged attacks flying between them and slowly draining their HP. In a drawn out battle, his high defense would make him the likely victor, but his tired and treacherous body had other plans: for half a second, his eyelids closed without warning.

Of course, Neo made use of that moment of distraction to land a hit on him. Of course it had to crit. Itaru retaliated, but before he could finish him off, that prick Neo used a self-healing ability. Of course that one had to crit, too. Neo, the child loved by RNG. He wished he sucked enough to be able to say he was all luck and no skill, but alas.

At that point, either of them could go down in a hit or two. He charged once more, a bit desperately at that point. For some reason, Neo didn’t seem to move. Ha, stunned! Finally, he was in his clutches. Just one more hit…!

But then, a horn blared through the speakers, and huge bright golden letters that made his eyes hurt appeared on the screen: TIME’S UP: DAYBREAK KEEPERS WIN. Was he one of those daybreak keepers? What team was he in, again? Why would he care? The only thing that mattered was that Neo had been within arm’s reach, he’d only needed one more second to hit him and see his corpse hit the floor, even if just once, after months or even years of dancing around each other, but the stupid timer had denied him the closure he’d been wanting for so long. And it got even better: he had to watch how, after loading back into the safety of his in-game house, his character died to the last tick of some poison debuff, courtesy of Neo’s blades. He raged so hard he forgot he was tired and sleepy.

Neo, Neo, Neo, always Neo, that shithead Neo.

Neo, that permanent nuisance who also happened to be on his server. It couldn't be any other way, could it. Good, that would make it easier to give him a piece of his mind.

He wasn’t sure what he’d write, exactly. He’d tell him to piss off or something. That sounded good enough. So he selected his name from the recent instances list… and with an unfortunate slip of the finger, instead of a private message, he clicked on the party invite option. Ugh. Not good. He buried his face in his hands. Maybe he’d get lucky with Neo being AFK and forgetting to check when he was back so—

<NEO> yo

No way. Right, “lucky” was not the word of the day. Well. A party had just been formed, and Neo was waiting for him to state his business. Think fast, Chigasaki Itaru!

<taruchi> hey  
<taruchi> you’re good at this, i’m good at this  
<taruchi> let’s team up and teach these buffoons who’s boss?

Smoooooth. Smooth like eggs made of butter silk. Neo had probably just busted a gut laughing at his expense.

<NEO> yeah sure  
<NEO> been meaning to inv you myself  
<NEO> cant pass up a chance to see the great taruchi in action from up close, can i

Wait, really? Itaru blinked and rubbed his tired eyes a few times. Neo’s words were still on the screen, clear as day, so it was no hallucination. Still, why was his main rival suddenly buttering him up? Oh, right, that jackass was being sarcastic, wasn’t he. Very well, two could play at that game. All he had to do was tap into his delightful salaryman persona for the nth fake exchange of pleasantries of the day. It was scary how quickly he was adapting to it.

<taruchi> haha, you took the words right out of my mouth!  
<taruchi> i bet we can learn a lot from each other  
<taruchi> but i’m not used to teaching, so just tell me if you have trouble keeping up with my pace :)  
<NEO> dont sell yourself short man  
<NEO> im sure youll teach me so well i’ll outperform you in a minute  
<NEO> btw, grats on 2nd place for sacchi  
<NEO> :) :) :)  
<taruchi> thanks, same to you!  
<taruchi> wait  
<taruchi> second?

No way. No way no way no way. He had checked and double checked the point difference and time left before he stopped. He _had_ checked way too many times, and he had appeared on top every time. How quickly could Neo accumulate points? Could it be that, during all that time, the ranking board hadn’t been properly updated? The probability was not zero. He needed to make sure, and fast.

 _Currently undergoing maintenance. Please wait a bit longer, Manager_ _☆_

Right. Post-event maintenance. He was livid.

<taruchi> HOW  
<taruchi> there was not enough time left for you to catch up  
<taruchi> i made sure  
<taruchi> i am going to fucking kill you, you shithead  
<taruchi> why did you have to pull this shit on a sacchi event  
<NEO> lmfao calm down  
<taruchi> no, i’m not calming down  
<taruchi> you have no idea how important it was for me to take the top spot  
<NEO> seriously dude chill  
<NEO> im pulling your leg  
<NEO> you said it, no time

That.

Little.

Piece.

Of.

Shit.

<taruchi> ………………………………  
<NEO> you were barely making any progress this evening  
<NEO> busy with rl i guess  
<NEO> at first i thought easy win but no point if theres no competition  
<NEO> and your profile’s full of sacchi banners so i kinda felt bad

Itaru let his head drop on the keyboard and roll over the keys. Alright, good news first: it seemed like the top spot was his, after all. The bad news was that, apparently, his victory had not been earned, but handed over to him, which significantly damaged his pride. And with that wording, he was compelled to feel like he owed one to Neo. That was something he definitely did not want.

<NEO> hello  
<NEO> anybody home

He groaned, sat back up, and deleted the keysmash gibberish about to be sent to the chat log.

<taruchi> okay, i suppose i need to extend you the same courtesy next time  
<taruchi> who’s your favorite? it’s hard to tell from your profile  
<NEO> dont have one  
<NEO> just there for the challenge  
<NEO> so you holding back does nothing for me

Of course he was one of _those_.

<taruchi> i’d rather not owe you any favors  
<NEO> too bad for you then

Itaru wanted to hurl his whole computer out the window.

<NEO> so are you queuing us up or what  
<NEO> my fingers are itching

It was definitely going out the window. Okay, maybe not. Too heavy.

 

In the beginning, he would have liked to shank Neo, rather than cooperate with him. With their history of incessant clashing, being stuck in the same team was, to Itaru, nothing short of an aberration. Neo’s unceasing “piece of cake”s and “ez mode”s were seriously grinding his gears, too. But with each round they played, the more inclined he was to think that hey, the man wasn’t wrong. By themselves, both of them were already a force to be reckoned with, and with each minute they spent together, they learnt more about each other’s quirks and adapted better to each other’s pace. Being in sync let their strength grow exponentially. It really made a difference when a skilled player had his back.

Many times, Itaru caught himself grinning whenever Neo took care of the odd player who’d almost managed to sneak up on them, or when he CC’d potential threats when his hands were full, or when they wordlessly agreed on which opposing team players to harass first and which to save for last, when faced with a crowd. He berated himself for it, at first: that was his arch-nemesis he was cheerfully applauding there. However, at some point, he gave up and rolled with it. Easier to accept the facts: Neo was good, they were good, the matches were good, and he felt invincible. They were becoming a perfectly harmonized murder mechanism. It could have been them against the world, and they would have prevailed.

 

→

 

It was nearly five in the morning, and they were taking a moment of respite after single-… alright, double-handedly taking a bunch of enemy bases and blowing up their resources. Their work was done, all they had to do was sit back and watch their team’s points pile up with time. They’d reach the target amount in a matter of seconds. To celebrate their imminent victory, they started chasing each other in circles around the base, using combat abilities here and there, their visual effects a poor man’s version of fireworks. It was a rather curious way to communicate. He wondered why the devs had never implemented a high-five emote, he really wanted one right then.

It had been one exhilarating night. Begrudgingly or not, he had to acknowledge that teaming up with Neo had been fun, and lots of it. And to think it all started with a single misclick.

<taruchi> gg  
<taruchi> was that the last one?  
<NEO> yea damn im tired  
<NEO> back hurts  
<taruchi> hunched over the keyboard for too long?  
<NEO> nah too many hours carrying trash like you  
<taruchi> ha, i wonder how many hours it took you to come up with this zinger  
<NEO> not as many as it took you to realize i was joking about the event rank  
<taruchi> oh burn  
<taruchi> i still feel like murdering you for that one  
<NEO> good  
<NEO> stay fired up  
<NEO> we gotta do this again btw  
<taruchi> agreed

He wanted to add something there, like “we make a good team”, or “it’s fun playing with you”, “I’m glad we got to talk”, or anything positive, really, but it sounded too… canned, insincere? Sarcastic, even? Definitely too _something_. Maybe overly friendly? He didn’t want to sound too attached, because he definitely was not. He wasn’t sure about the right attitude to have in front of someone he had been calling an annoyance up until a few hours earlier. Good thing Neo interrupted his fretting with a new message.

<NEO> more tomorrow?  
<taruchi> if i manage to get out of bed, sure, why not?  
<NEO> lol i know that feeling  
<NEO> cya then

And with that, before he had a chance to reply, Neo logged out. Had he just made a friend? Judging by the request notification at the bottom of his screen, it sure seemed like it. He was wary, but also looking forward to the next day way too much to really care.

 

→

 

He’d heard cool showers were invigorating, but the one he’d just taken seemed to have had the opposite effect on his body. He was utterly pooped and fully ready to collapse in bed, and so he did, but not before taking his phone. Maintenance should be done, and he didn’t want to fall asleep before seeing his love once more. Oh, and picking up the event rewards from the present box, of course. He let out a huge yawn as he waited for the patch to download.

“Good morning! I’ll be cheering you on, so promise me you’ll do your best today!”

Ah, his sweet Sacchi. He promised he’d do his best at sleeping through the better part of Saturday. And, right before starting to make good on that promise, he remembered something, something he’d heard from a certain four-eyed snake who didn’t know the first thing about his wife.

He caressed her hair with his index finger. “You’re not flat, Sacchi, you’re just the right size.”


	3. Damage over time

Before he knew it, spending time with Neo had become part of his daily life. Ribbing each other as they jumped from game to game until the wee hours of the morning, days turned into weeks, or even months. While Neo was still the rival he loved to hate, their dynamic had shifted over time, and by then he was more inclined to call him a brother in arms, rather than an opponent. He wasn’t too sure the word “friend” was safe to use, regardless of what the menus and icons stated.

He had to admit that, at first, it felt weird to have someone ping him or wordlessly send him party invites as soon as he was back from work. Still, that prick had been constant enough to make him get used to it, and on the days Neo wasn’t there, as was the case that evening, he often caught himself listlessly staring at the computer screen, bored out of his skull, thinking about all those single player games that had been collecting dust for a while but was feeling too lazy to boot. Neo might come online soon. He’d just check up on Sacchi for a few minutes.

 

→

 

<NEO> sup  
<NEO> classmates dragged me to karaoke  
<taruchi> meaning you gladly went out of your own will?  
<NEO> cant resist karaoke  
<taruchi> i can’t believe you cheated on me with a microphone  
<taruchi> i thought you and i had something special!  
<NEO> lmao not the angry girlfriend routine please  
<NEO> did you wait long?  
<taruchi> i-it’s not like i was waiting for you or anything!  
<NEO> oh cmon youre giving me the creeps  
<taruchi> mission accomplished :D  
<NEO> btw  
<NEO> gimme your lime id  
<NEO> will tell you if im logging later than usual

Itaru read that line a few times, feeling a strange weight in his stomach. They had each other added in a bunch of games and sites, that should be enough. It was more than enough for him. Being able to reach each other on the phone would be useful, but was it really necessary? When was the last time he’d given an online friend the means to contact him offline? Or rather, had he, ever? He’d never even shared any details with—

Right, and over two years later, he was still regretting it. Maybe he should learn from his mistakes, for once. He quickly typed his ID and pressed the enter key before he could talk himself out of it.

 

→→→

 

He was on the way home when he got a Lime message from Neo. It was a single picture of a tightly bandaged hand.

_what the hell happened here, are you alright?_

_yea you should see the other guy  
just so you know why im playing like shit these weeks_

_no excuses, just rework your keybinds, nublet_

_nah id rather see you work harder to carry me_

_go eat shit, also get better soon_

(In the end, the fractured hand barely had an effect on his performance.)

 

→→→

 

It was one lazy weekend afternoon. Neo had been griping about some guy not wanting to fight him anymore, or quitting altogether, and blah blah no challenge yadda yadda boring. In all honesty, if that hooligan had been the one responsible for Neo’s broken hand, him being out of the picture was welcome news. He couldn’t have his buddy play with busted hands on the regular.

Neither of them had any pressing business in a leveling dungeon, but there was only so much enjoyment they could get at a time from shooting fellow players, so they switched to slashing wildlife for a while. At times, Itaru thought, it felt more like partying up with wildlife. And indeed, random party matching never disappointed: that time they loaded next to a low level edgy knight with a huge sword, a custom armor with an eyesore of a dark aura effect, and a very reassuring name.

<DarkAvenger9> Greetings, friends! Let’s embark together on this new journey!!

He cackled.

<taruchi> oh boy, this is gonna be good  
<taruchi> hi there  
<NEO> yeeahhh……….

DarkAvenger9 was, for all intents and purposes, a newbie amongst newbies. Running and jumping to and fro, he only stopped for a few seconds at a time to click anything that looked like it could be clicked. Judging by his meager damage output, he didn’t have much of an idea of what to do with his skills, either. On that particular day, Itaru was in a good enough mood to feel entertained by a baby knight discovering his environment; however, the run was dragging on too long, and Neo finally got irked.

<NEO> dude it doesnt matter if you got a big ass sword if you cant use it  
<taruchi> nice wording  
<DarkAvenger9> sorry guys, i haven’t mastered my basic combo yet…  
<NEO> what do you mean mastered it  
<NEO> its like 1 2 1 2 lol  
<NEO> for fucks sake  
<DarkAvenger9> i’m trying my best, you purple asshole!!  
<taruchi> heh  
<DarkAvenger9> maybe i’d get better if you explained instead of calling names!!!  
<NEO> hold on whos the one calling names here  
<taruchi> shush, neo  
<taruchi> leave it to me, I know how to handle fresh blood  
<taruchi> alright so

 

Unexpectedly, the entity known as DarkAvenger9 turned out to be quite receptive of Itaru’s advice, and a real ace at following instructions: it only took a few quick tips for the pace to pick up. He wasn’t known as the patient teacher type, that had always been someone else’s role, but it felt refreshing to see someone get better thanks to his help, it took him back to the times when—

<DarkAvenger9> Partake of my blood, o divine power, and rain down on those who dare oppose us! Tenebrous passion in my heart, a piercing scream on my right arm. For I am you, and you are me: come forth, MAKEN DESTROYJER!!!!!

A poor unsuspecting boar had just become the victim of a limit break.

<taruchi> !  
<NEO> wtf are we rping now?

See, he was right. He knew it was going to be good.

<taruchi> The Maken Destroyjer…! To think I would meet the Ninth Dark Avenger here, the descendant of those who stole the Cursed Sword from its rightful owners… You will pay for your ancestors’ sins with your life!  
<DarkAvenger9> ??!?!?!  
<NEO> you too taruchi?  
<NEO> whats wrong with you people  
<DarkAvenger9> Rightful owners?! Those who were planning to enslave the residents of the First Purgatory using its power? I am proud of my ancestors’ deeds, and I will use this very blade to cleanse this world of the calamity that is your clan!!!  
<NEO> geez  
<taruchi> Ha, ha, ha! What can you cleanse, with the dying power of a blade that’s been rusting for a thousand years? It doesn’t stand a chance against my Gorgon Eye. Behold my true form!

He targeted a spell under his character for extra visual effect.

<DarkAvenger9> No way… He’s a forbidden arts user!!!!  
<NEO> im outta here  
<taruchi> Oh, you thought you could escape, mortal? …Wait. It cannot be! Neo, the slayer of the Dragon Broodmother! You have done well masking your presence until now, but all your efforts are in vain! I’ll send you both to the Furthest Purgatory!  
<NEO> why me

 

Somehow, they managed to clear the dungeon.

The last boss’s corpse hadn’t even started dissipating when the Maken Destroyjer’s plucky wielder started running in circles around them, showering them with hug emotes and bows and waves and words of praise and gratitude. Finally, he pointed at Neo.

<DarkAvenger9> that doesn’t mean i’ve forgiven you yet!!

And, with that, he walked out the exit portal.

<NEO> :/

 

→→→

 

<taruchi> thank goodness you’re here, i was so bored i started watching “kazunari miyoshi’s ultimate greenhorn frenzy time” or whatever he calls it  
<taruchi> add stars and emoji to taste  
<taruchi> ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ*☆*: .｡.:*:.｡.:*☆*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧  
<NEO> yo  
<taruchi> these “normies get in touch with gamer culture” streams need to die  
<taruchi> they were sort of endearing at first but now it’s such a widespread trend it just pisses me off  
<taruchi> but he actually came up with some interesting tactics, so i guess he gets a pass  
<NEO> lol  
<NEO> that guy’s just a huge nerd pretending to be a normie for internet points  
<NEO> hes cool tho  
<taruchi> i thought that tactic worked better irl  
<taruchi> anyway  
<taruchi> if your face gets more screentime than your game, then you’re a normie  
<NEO> i like how you have clear cut criteria for that

 

As the conversation made its way to the topic of their own streaming channels, Itaru realized that touching the subject at all might have been a mistake. He didn’t like where it was going, but he didn’t seem to find a way to steer it away from the huge iceberg they’d been cruising around for the past few minutes. Quite the contrary: it felt like its sheer gravitational pull made eventual collision unavoidable, even if it had to bend some laws of physics for the sake of that trick.

<NEO> what do you use for captions tho? speech recognition software i guess  
<taruchi> that’s right  
<NEO> and it manages to pick up all your colorful vocab  
<NEO> like fucking fuck you all  
<NEO> burn you little piece of shit burn  
<NEO> always a joy to watch  
<taruchi> :’)  
<taruchi> have i ever said that? i don’t remember  
<NEO> ever seen the tally video? that thing is glorious  
<taruchi> nope  
<taruchi> do i want to?

Neo sent him a link to a highlight compilation of his own streaming sessions from a few months ago, showcasing all the curses he’d directed at players, bosses, mid-bosses, random mobs, objects, error messages and invisible walls alike. Amusingly enough, he really did not remember half of those. The total count was 293. He was impressed someone had actually taken the time to make that.

<NEO> the best one is when you throw that crate and it bounces off the wall and hits you  
<NEO> and you do it again  
<NEO> like 3 times  
<taruchi> lmao  
<taruchi> was i drunk there, or…?  
<NEO> dont ask me lol  
<NEO> why just captions tho, you could leave your voice on

_Aaaaand here we go_. Time to sound the alarm and prepare for immediate evacuation.

<NEO> ashamed of your hick accent or something?  
<NEO> you actually a girl?  
<taruchi> sorry to disappoint but nope  
<NEO> whats the deal then

That had to be one of his least favorite topics, and he really wished he didn’t have to deal with it again. Still, the least he could do was give Neo an answer of some sort. The guy had been decent enough to him, brushing him off wouldn’t feel right.

<taruchi> i prefer to keep my online and offline lives separate  
<taruchi> so i don’t want people hearing my voice  
<NEO> company policy?  
<taruchi> no, i just don’t want anyone coming up to me irl like “hey, you’re that guy who likes to cuss at flying crates”  
<taruchi> i’m comfy in my anonymity  
<NEO> dont tell me youre some kind of celeb irl too  
<taruchi> sure, a celebrity salaryman  
<NEO> sounds like a theme for an evening drama  
<taruchi> the world of adults is deep and complex, you see  
<NEO> says the guy who throws crates at walls while drunk  
<taruchi> oh, shush, you  
<NEO> well i get where you come from i guess  
<NEO> so no voiced taruchi streams  
<NEO> but 1 on 1 voice chat would be ok

Ha. HA.

<taruchi> no way  
<NEO> cmon it would make coop play easier  
<taruchi> we’re OP enough as is, playing without a handicap would make it even less challenging  
<NEO> nothing a bit of friendly fire cant fix  
<taruchi> betrayal!  
<NEO> so let me hear you

What a pigheaded little prick.

<taruchi> hell no  
<NEO> you suck  
<taruchi> i know

He took a moment to imagine what it would be like to try. It wasn’t like his little cozy cramped world would fall apart. Probably.

<NEO> aight, wont insist any more today  
<NEO> but ill keep nagging you till you talk to me  
<taruchi> sure, let’s see which one of us is the most stubborn  
<NEO> youre on

Neo had been persistent enough to make himself a place in Itaru’s life. Maybe, he thought, he’d also be persistent enough to tear his walls down. It was a scary thought, but at the same time, he couldn’t wait for that to happen.

 

→→→

 

<NEO> taruchi  
<NEO> voice chat  
<taruchi> excuse me, you must be mistaken, i do not know this “taruchi” person

 

→→→

 

<NEO> cmon lets vc  
<taruchi> 凸(  ˘ω˘ )凸

 

→→→

 

<NEO> voice chat?  
<taruchi> oooh, me sorry, i not understand japanese!

 

→→→

 

<taruchi> i said no  
<NEO> come on, im just a regular human like you  
<taruchi> a regular human who has thousands of followers on various video sharing sites  
<NEO> so do you  
<NEO> and if youre implying i might “accidentally” show you talking on stream  
<NEO> im not that much of a scumbag

That one kinda hurt.

 

→→→

 

<NEO> k, change of strategy

 

“Yo. Okay, I’ll do the talking, you keep doing your thing.”

He’d thought the same when checking out his recent streams, but Neo’s voice sounded vaguely familiar—and vaguely irritating too, though that last bit might be his own bias at work. Irritating and lazy, but right then, talking to one person instead of an audience, it was also vaguely warm. Itaru still felt awkward, regardless.

<taruchi> hi  
<taruchi> nice to meet you, neo  
<taruchi> this feels weird

“Yeah, kinda. Like when you pick up the phone and say hello but there’s only silence coming from the other side.”

<taruchi> the chat log is all mine now  
<taruchi> echo echo  
<taruchi> “hello, it’s me”

“Is this one of those ‘ore-ore’ scams, or are you quoting that song?”

<taruchi> the former  
<taruchi> give me your money, please

Neo laughed. “Are you seriously asking a high schooler for money?”

<taruchi> i have events to rank on, you see

“Yeah, yeah.”

 

→→→

 

<taruchi> oh, not bad

“Told you, easy peasy. Huh, wait, incorrect code?”

<taruchi> maybe you forgot a clue somewhere? can’t remember, it’s been too many years

“Why are you making me play these clunky old games anyway?”

<taruchi> “waaah waaah i can’t play anything that doesn’t have last gen graphics waaah”

“Shaddup, that’s not what I said.”

 

→→→

 

“Bah, that son of a…! Ugh. Told you we should avoid this place. Come revive me.”

<taruchi> if you ask nicely, maybe

“Oh great Taruchi, holder of the medical supplies, could you please haul your ass southwest and revive me so I can stop lying on the floor like a useless piece of shit?”

<taruchi> so this is what it feels like to have someone’s life in your hands…  
<taruchi> makes me want to try raiding as healer

“Just so you can get distracted casting your wet noodle damage spells while everyone around you dies? Yeah, sure.”

<taruchi> actually, i think you look comfortable on the floor, i’ll go scout some faraway area

“ _Taruchi_!”

Itaru chuckled to himself at Neo’s groaning and, for a brief moment, he wished he was brave enough to have those exchanges directly, to laugh together, to do away with the stilted flow that came with relying on a keyboard. At first, he had assumed Neo would give up on the whole VC business (or even dealing with him at all) after a few failed attempts, but the guy was obstinate beyond expectations, and he was doing a great job at relentlessly chipping away at his shell. He knew it was about to crack. Just one more push.


	4. Trials and Tribulations

_“Eeeeeh? I don’t want Chigasaki-kun in my team, he can’t even bounce the ball!_ You _pick him!”_

_“Oh, no, don’t invite him, he’ll just sit in a corner looking gloomy, he’ll kill the mood…”_

_“Chigasaki? He acts all cool and shit but he’s just a closet gamer nerd, haha.”_

_I have no more time. I am very sorry to leave :( But I want to be back someday!_

 

_yo taruchi, inv me next round, lets go crack a few skulls_

“Chigasaki. Chigasaki!”

“Huh?”

The screen was full of tiny words and graphs he’d been looking at long enough for them to stop making sense. Chikage was standing next to him, lightly shaking his shoulder. The sun had set a long time ago, and the office was empty.

“There we go. Welcome back to Earth.”

“Haha, oops.” Itaru flashed him a meek smile. “I’m afraid my concentration is taking a nosedive. I’ll go grab a coffee.”

“Get me one, too. Come on, the earlier we wrap this up, the earlier we can go home.”

“Aye aye sir,” he numbly intoned as he disappeared towards the coffee machine.

 

“Make sure you get enough sleep. Your body isn’t built to withstand all these all-nighters you’re pulling lately.”

“You’re asking for the impossible.” He shrugged as he handed Chikage the steaming plastic cup. “But I appreciate that you’re worried about me.”

“I’m not particularly worried about your health, but if you start slacking off, your workload will inevitably make its way to me.”

Itaru chuckled. “Really now. There’s a word for this kind of attitude, Senpai.” And, under his breath, he added, “I can’t tell if you’re the classic type or the modern type, though,” right before filling his mouth with the burnt tasting concoction.

“Hmph.” Chikage lazily rocked in his swivel chair for a few seconds, and then he attacked. “Do the words ‘Sacchi is my goddess’ ring any bells to you?”

Itaru did his best not to spit the coffee all over his desk. He felt some of it go up his nose. Of course Chikage had to choose the moment he was drinking a mouthful to speak up. Why had his Cutie Catwalk profile comment just come out of the mouth of a person it definitely should not come out of? What the hell was going on?

“Excuse me?”

“What if I told you,” he took a sip of coffee, “that there’s a certain user in a certain social game whose activity patterns are eerily similar to yours?”

Itaru’s heart sank.

“Oh? I wonder what kind of person they are, haha…” He sounded way more ruffled than he cared to.

“This Taruchi fellow? He’s a hardcore one, I can tell as much.”

He tensed and felt the cold sweat starting to build up on the back of his neck. He looked away. “Um, well, I don’t really know much about the subject.”

“Chigasaki, please. Do yourself a favor and give up. It’ll be less painful for you.”

“Give what up, Senpai?” He forced a smile.

“So you’ve chosen the painful route. As you like, it’ll be a pleasure to deliver.”

“But I don’t…! Don’t know what you’re… going on about… ha ha…” he trailed off under Chikage’s incisive gaze.

“Let’s spell it out, then: you are hereby accused of being an avid gamer, moonlighting under the name Taruchi.”

Itaru winced. “What do you have to support your case?”

“Let’s start with the fact that, every other week, coinciding with in-game event dates, your toilet breaks constantly take a long time, and the fact you look disgustingly satisfied when you’re done.” He leisurely paced around the room, hands behind his back. “I can think of a few relatively time consuming yet satisfying activities one can do in a toilet cubicle, but not so many you would dare to engage in at your workplace.”

“But I could have been—”

“Careful with what you say here, you might make it look way worse.”

“Ugh.”

“As I was saying, it seems this specific user’s rank always, without exception, moves up whenever you disappear. Quite a coincidence, don’t you think?”

“Why would you go so far as to monitor this person’s activity, in the first place?”

“I have a lot of free time,” Chikage replied, unflappable.

“Yeah, you clearly do.”

“I have a long list of specific examples I could share with you, if you were so inclined, but I would say we have enough circumstantial evidence to prove that you and this Taruchi are the same person.”

Itaru slapped his desk and pointed an accusing finger at Chikage, mimicking a pose that had been present throughout all his childhood. “Objection!”

“Good job, you just gave yourself away.”

“This one is entry level, it doesn’t count! It’s like, part of popular culture by now!”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“Anyway, it could be anyone! Do you even know how many people play CuCa?”

Oh, no. Something was wrong. He could sense it.

Chikage brought his hand close to his ear. “Sorry, play what now?”

“…You never mentioned which game, did you.”

“Correct.” Chikage walked up to him and patted his head a couple times. “Can we stop this charade now?”

“That’s… it’s a popular game, I just assumed… I’ve seen some ads, I don’t play it myself…”

“Chigasaki… you’ve even been humming the theme song whenever you get distracted. And,” he held up his phone, thumb hovering over the menacing play button in the middle of the screen, “here’s the evidence.”

At that point, he resigned himself to his fate. Nothing stopped Chikage from tapping the button, and soon the office was filled with the sound of Itaru’s voice gently humming the catchy upbeat song. Even Chikage himself joined in, whether to mock him or because he genuinely enjoyed the tune, there was no way to know with him. Meanwhile, the flesh-and-blood Itaru was busy processing that weird mix of embarrassment and surreality that increased with each note landing in his ears. He believed his feet were detaching themselves from the floor to let him float away, to the ceiling, out the window, towards the stratosphere…

However, after a few seconds, the music stopped, and his feet were firmly planted on the ground once again.

“I have to say you have a nice singing voice, though.”

“Uh. Huh. Yeah. No. Thanks. End me.”

“It was a valiant effort.” Chikage plopped down on the chair next to his. “But remember this for next time: rather than try to hide information from me, you should focus your efforts on convincing me not to use it against you.”

“So I’m getting blackmailed, yet again.”

“That’s my speciality, after all,” Chikage said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Though considering this concerns your very nature, I almost feel bad using it as blackmail material.”

“ _Almost_ being the operative word?”

“Exactly.”

At that moment, Itaru noticed a very important detail that had been escaping him while he was frantically trying to protect his image. Sparkling with pure joy, he grabbed Chikage’s arms.

“More importantly, Senpai. So you play CuCa too?”

Chikage stared at him, half amused. “You seem to believe I made an account for some reason other than gathering intel on you.”

“Who did you choose as your main?”

“The default one.”

Itaru took the phone off his hands. “Only level three? Oh, well, the early levels are when you get the most freebies. You don’t know how lucky you are. I’m sending you a friend request, by the way. Give me a second, I’ll make space.”

“Don’t bother. I’m not going to keep playing.”

Itaru handed him the phone back, and Chikage noticed a small 1 next to the friend list button. A request from Taruchi himself. He sighed and accepted it. “Are we done here?”

“So, who’s your favorite?” Itaru said, showing him the character selection screen with a gleeful smile. “Sacchi’s mine, by the way. I’m not handing her over.”

“I don’t like women.”

“Just choose one based on design, come on.” Itaru pushed his phone closer.

“This one. Whatever.” He randomly pointed at a fair haired girl near the center of the screen.

“Oh, Yukarin. So you’re into grown-up seductive types, I see.”

“Most definitely not.” Chikage felt a headache coming.

 

→

 

<taruchi> i royally fucked up  
<taruchi> senpai from work found out i’m a gamer  
<NEO> rip  
<NEO> here lies taruchi 1567-2017 died of shame  
<NEO> why would he care tho  
<taruchi> no, listen, there’s more  
<taruchi> i saw he had a cutie catwalk account for reasons  
<NEO> reasons  
<taruchi> so instead of trying to save face i went full fanboy on him  
<taruchi> and now i have no idea if i’ll ever be able to look him in the eye again  
<taruchi> please help  
<NEO> lmao  
<NEO> so you do have a cute side after all  
<taruchi> this is not cute, this is fucking embarrassing  
<NEO> id have paid to see that ngl  
<taruchi> pls no bully  
<taruchi> not today, not in the mood  
<NEO> real talk tho  
<NEO> no reason to be so ashamed  
<NEO> act like something is a weakness and people will use it to attack you  
<NEO> being embarrassed is like painting a giant bullseye there, like hi, wound is here, feel free to stick your finger in it  
<NEO> but if you act natural about it, others will too  
<NEO> gaming is kinda common these days anyway  
<NEO> and its good to have something you can get fired up about  
<NEO> rather than have zero motivation for anything  
<taruchi> …  
<taruchi> why, you do make some good points at times, surprisingly  
<NEO> dude  
<NEO> fuck off with the patronizing attitude, im just trying to help

He read Neo’s line, reread his own, and felt a sharp pang of regret. His fingers flew across the keyboard.

<taruchi> sorry, that came off wrong  
<taruchi> i didn’t mean to  
<NEO> yeah no hard feelings  
<taruchi> i’m way too on edge to do anything right today

Excuses, excuses, excuses. He wanted to become an ostrich and hide his head in the ground.

<NEO> lol its ok man  
<taruchi> i’m grateful you’re actually hearing me out  
<NEO> np, youd do the same  
<taruchi> this shit is bothering me more than it should  
<taruchi> and i do mean the part about those being good points  
<taruchi> at times i think i should be more open, not like i can get sacked for being a gamer, but yeah  
<taruchi> bad experiences

There must have been something very wrong with him that day, running his mouth both online and offline. Something had opened the flood gates and he was having a hell of a time stopping the flow. He was an adult, supposedly. Carelessly dumping his woes on a teenager was mortifying enough, and he had to go and act like an ass when said teenager was comforting him, _and_ doing it in a more mature way than he could ever hope to manage.

<NEO> wanna talk about it?

Damn that kid. He did, he really did, but nothing good would come out of it. He had to put an end to that.

<taruchi> i’d rather not, not yet at least  
<taruchi> you can guess what happened  
<NEO> not really  
<NEO> but i bet its related to your issues with voice chat

Right then, he noticed an incoming private call.

<NEO> pick it up  
<taruchi> you know i won’t talk, though  
<NEO> just pick it up

A bit numb after the many highs and lows of the day, Itaru sighed, accepted the call, and shut his eyes tight.

“Hey.” Neo’s voice felt so natural that he caught himself about to greet him back. Crap, he wasn’t muted. Time to fix that. “Wait, don’t mute yourself. No need to talk, just stay there and, dunno, breathe or something. Just so I know you’re there.”

<taruchi> you can hear it? that’s creepy, gotta fiddle with sensitivity

“Barely. It’s fine, leave it as is.”

Still, someone hearing him breathing into the microphone made him self conscious, which made him go into alarm mode, which made him breathe more heavily. The mute button had never looked so tempting.

“So, yeah, sucks that you had a shit day, but yeah… happens. Er, not trying to make light of it, just…” Neo sighed. “Can’t really fix it myself, but maybe chatting a bit will cheer you up. Doesn’t hurt to try.”

<taruchi> at least hearing you awkwardly trip over your words is making me feel better about myself :D

“Pffft, you suck, man.” He laughed. “Well, whatever works.”

<taruchi> still, thanks

“Yeah, I said no prob. Never really had this kind of talk before, so, you know. Trial and error.”

Neither had he, and he considered the dose of sincere talk about feelings had been enough for the day. He was feeling vulnerable enough with an open microphone in front of him, there was no need to throw depressing backstories into the mix.

<taruchi> let’s change the subject for now  
<taruchi> wanna play some shitty browser games before i go crash in bed?

“Sure, link me your worst.”

And so he did. He was glad Neo didn’t press the issue.

 

They spent the next hour or two poking fun at grotesque animations, researching how to glitch out of various maps, or doing their worst at portraying abstract concepts with rushed mouse-drawn pictures in guessing games: exactly the sort of harmless silly distractions he needed as a breather. But damn, his drawings were really coming out atrocious.

“Okay, flowers, some smiling dude… is this supposed to be a controller? Er, spring break? Many smiling dudes…? Streaming? Why the flowers, though?”

There was something fascinating about hearing Neo’s train of thought live, even during something as mundane as a drawing game. As much as he tried to keep quiet, a few chuckles escaped his lips. Hopefully Neo’s own bursts of laughter were loud enough that he wouldn’t notice.

“Hmm, playing… Heh, smiling dude got an UR card now, didn’t he. Is smiling the word? No, not that. Oh, happiness! …Really, Taruchi, is this your idea of happiness? Hahaha, come on!”

<taruchi> you mean your depiction of happiness would involve anything other than yourself next to a golden crown with the number 1?

“Hey, what do you know?” he whined.

<taruchi> you mean to say you’re more than just a shallow achievement hunter?  
<taruchi> color me surprised

“Oh, fuck you, man…! Well, at least you’ve cheered up enough to start dissing me again. Glad to have the old Taruchi back.”

<taruchi> yes, please delete tonight’s events from your memory  
<taruchi> i was awful

“No way. What kind of knobhead would restart after triggering a rare event?”

<taruchi> oh dear, neo’s unlocking all the events in my route, how embarrassing <3

“Ha, as if! Man, you’re so nasty sometimes.”

<taruchi> i live to serve!

Between stifled laughs and playful banter, Itaru slipped into a state of comfortable drowsiness. With his guard completely down by then, the fatigue of many days took its toll, and he yawned, loud and clear.

“Yeah,” Neo returned the yawn, “same.”

<taruchi> shit  
<taruchi> you heard nothing

He snickered. “Nope. Nothing at all. Guess it’s time to hit the sack?”

<taruchi> yeah…  
<taruchi> i’m seriously dreading work tomorrow

“It’s gonna be alright, geez! Just be your usual nasty flippant self.”

<taruchi> flippant and nasty, gotcha  
<taruchi> that should go well

“You know what I mean. Going to bed now, wish me good night.”

<taruchi> of course, good night!

“Not like that, Taruchi.”

He knew what he meant. It didn’t exactly take a genius. It was one of those things that became harder the more he delayed it. Like apologizing, they said, or diving into water. He breathed in, then out. Neo was silent, waiting. When dealing with clients at work, he could effortlessly pull off as many graceful splash-less dives as he wanted, so there was no reason he’d have to bellyflop right then. He opened his mouth. _Let’s do this_.

“G, goodnight.”

And then he panicked, ended the call when Neo was about to say something, rushed into his bed and hid under the blankets until morning.

 

<NEO> lol you forgot to log out here  
<NEO> so yeah i was saying i like your voice  
<NEO> has a nice clear ring to it  
<NEO> so im gonna bug you to talk more  
<NEO> anyway sleep well


	5. What lemons life giveth, life taketh away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few things:  
> • Gonna take a bit of a detour during the next couple chapters, but we'll be back on track soon™ (by the end of chapter 6).  
> • Speaking of chapter 6, it’s becoming a monster (by my standards).  
> • These people live in a very kind universe where some equipment doesn’t bind on use. I’m honestly envious.

The last few days had been remarkably ordinary, and Itaru was grateful for it. After the confrontation with Chikage and the microphone debut fiasco, he needed those uneventful days to recover.

Some things had slightly changed, of course. Chikage had taken to calling him by his handle name at the office, when their colleagues were barely out of earshot, just to watch him jump. However, at least, his senior didn’t seem to have the intention to expose him, and him being in the know had an obvious little perk: no need to hide anymore. While Chikage got accustomed to teasing him for his own entertainment, Itaru got used to sticking to him for respite, the same way he’d visit towns in his RPGs whenever he needed a break from level grinding. He’d fiddle with his phone around him without hesitation, and he’d tell him about updates and tier borders. Chikage looked completely uninterested, but that was fine by him.

Meanwhile, on the online side of things, Neo was staying true to his word and bugging him to talk every so often. He was disgustingly good at telling exactly when it was a good time to push and when he needed to hold back, so Itaru would just sit back and let him set the pace. That was fine by him, too. Besides, leading required effort and energy, and his plate was full re-learning how to exchange spoken words as Chigasaki Itaru the person, rather than as Chigasaki Itaru the productive member of society. By then, he’d graduated from breathing and laughing to start working on short callouts and the odd interjection. Progress!

 

<NEO> k then im off for today  
<taruchi> that’s early for you  
<NEO> quiz during first period, thats why :/ piece of cake but gotta show up at least  
<taruchi> aight, go get ‘em tiger  
<taruchi> show those equations who’s boss  
<NEO> it’s world history but thanks anyway lol  
<NEO> you too go get some rest

Neo logged out before he had the chance to wish him good night, as usual. Suddenly left with nothing to do, Itaru made his character run a few laps around his virtual garden. He got tired of it fast.

Daily quests done, inventory under control. He thought he’d check his in-game mailbox for old times’ sake.

He smiled at the most recent letter, a stack of potions from Neo with a friendly “make them yourself next time you lazy ass” note. Promotional codes, old raid mates bitching about other old raid mates, guildies trying to organize an event. At the bottom of the list, there was a letter he hadn’t dared delete for over two years.

Its author was his guild’s co-leader, the only person he’d ever cared to give such a title, as well as the only person he’d cared to call a true friend for a long time. Lemon was a star, always bright, always there to show him which path to follow. He was the one who had taught him the skills and the kindness necessary to lead, built a core raid team, nurtured newbies into efficient players, networked with the whole server, kept things active and fresh with his effervescent charisma, and all of that while learning a new language. The guild’s so-called golden era had been entirely his doing, and he might not even be aware.

He had taken a huge blow when Lemon suddenly stopped playing. In the beginning, he did his best to continue being a good and active guildmaster, so that he would be proud whenever he came back. But months passed, and he never did, and at some point Itaru started losing motivation. While the guild still sustained itself by sheer force of numbers, he had long fallen back to his solo player habits. Nevertheless, part of him still hoped for a miracle return.

 

_Subject: This is a bribe, don’t forget me!_

_From: Lemonmon_

_I have no more time. I am very sorry to leave :( But I want to be back someday! I send you my coolest stuff, I know you always liked the platinum holy knight skin, don’t you? Maybe you will become more lucky with drops now, because I am not there to steal your luck anymore. Or maybe you will stay unlucky like always! :D I will be thinking about you, so I want to hear what happen next in the guild, and also to you. You can write me at xxxxxxx@xxxxx.xx. I will send letters back!_

_Your friend Lemon_

_(P.S. I put Carmilla and Ebitarou in your garden, you take good care of them too!)_

 

Lemon had attached all his hard earned money to the letter, as well as a bunch of high grade consumables and his most precious treasures: currently unobtainable summoning scrolls, those broken-ass remedy gloves, and a grotesque hannya mask, useless and ugly, but he kept it around as a memento of the first raid they ever cleared together. Last but not least, the Platinum Holy Serpent Knight set, an extremely rare limited costume with only 25 units distributed across all servers.

To the present day, that inherited set was still Itaru’s go-to tank outfit, regardless of how outdated it was. At first, it was purely a matter of visuals, but then it became a way to keep Lemon’s spirit close, a reminder that he was once _there_. He couldn’t help but remember him, anyway: his surroundings were full of those traces, starting with his own in-game private house, which he had renamed to The Lemonade Stand, as if to honor his fallen friend. Actually, he thought, the new name was way better than the old Taruchi’s Mancave. The hannya mask was hanging on the wall, still useless and still ugly, and Carmilla and Ebitarou, those kitschy leopard statues Lemon loved so much and proudly displayed at the entrance of his long demolished house, were still standing right where he left them.

His gaze hovered over the email address he had never dared to use. At first, because it was too early, and he hoped Lemon would be back soon anyway. Then, he couldn’t find the right words, or the right moment. At some point, part of him concluded that it was too late, that he should let it go. That side of him was still battling with the side looking for the right moment and the right words.

He unwittingly made his way to the folder where he kept screenshots and logs of their past conversations. It wasn’t the first time he went over those; it wouldn’t be the last, either, and considering the effect they had on him, he had to wonder exactly how much of a masochist he was. He started with the most recent one, saved not too long before his disappearance. Talk about meeting up. Someone up there had a dark sense of humor.

 

←←←

 

<taruchi> what I think you look like? why now?  
<taruchi> i’ll shoot anyway  
<taruchi> i picture you with big ears and a lot of pimples, kinda awkward looking  
<Lemonmon> No way! I am a handsome gentleman!  
<taruchi> they say ugly people tend to be kinder and funnier to make up for physical appearance  
<Lemonmon> Then you must look hideous :D  
<taruchi> haha, thanks, i never thought i’d be happy to hear this  
<Lemonmon> Taruchi, show me that ugly mug  
<taruchi> behold the pinnacle of lemony’s japanese language studies  
<taruchi> a request for my hideous mug  
<taruchi> also no  
<Lemonmon> Okay, I think maybe you are a bit more handsome now… cheapskate :(  
<taruchi> i always look like shit in pictures  
<Lemonmon> No matter if you are ugly, you are still my best friend  
<taruchi> gee, thanks <3  
<taruchi> but i never said i was  
<taruchi> ugly, i mean  
<taruchi> not that i’m not your friend  
<taruchi> wow i am being so cool right now  
<Lemonmon> So uncool you are cool, that’s my Taruchi!  
<Lemonmon> But we can keep our faces as surprise for when I visit you  
<taruchi> better make it fast, i’ve been looking into sushi buffets for you to drive into bankruptcy  
<Lemonmon> Also take me to the supermarket sale day battle!  
<taruchi> that’s tougher than any raid we’ve cleared  
<taruchi> prepare to be utterly annihilated  
<Lemonmon> I also want to see blooming cherry trees and floating lanterns and momiji and Comiket, but the less sweaty Comiket!  
<taruchi> haha, then get ready to spend a whole year here  
<Lemonmon> If only…

 

←←←

 

<Lemonmon> Taruchi, sad news  
<Lemonmon> I’ll become busy soon, it mean less time to play with you :(  
<taruchi> preparing for entrance exams or something?  
<Lemonmon> It will take longer time… I need to do lessons to prepare for my job soon, father is tired so I follow in a few years, there are a mountain of things to learn  
<taruchi> family business, huh? gz on skipping job search hell  
<Lemonmon> Something like that, yes  
<Lemonmon> But it is not my choice… it is super threesome  
<taruchi> speaking of, you never told me much about your family  
<taruchi> lmao  
<taruchi> did you mean tiresome?  
<Lemonmon> That’s it!  
<taruchi> so what kinda job is it?  
<taruchi> i hunger for information  
<taruchi> lemonyyy tell me something  
<taruchi> or not, i guess  
<Lemonmon> Oh no! Taruchi, I looked up what threesome mean :O  
<Lemonmon> Is this what is called a fraud in sleep?  
<taruchi> freudian slip, i take it  
<Lemonmon> When did you teach me to say this word? Is it useful in Japan?  
<taruchi> LMAO

 

←←←

 

<taruchi> yeah, but i can’t just tell my superiors what i really think, got appearances to keep up  
<Lemonmon> Oooh I know this! One public appearance and one private appearance  
<Lemonmon> The Japanese “business in the front, party in the back” tradition!  
<taruchi> fuck  
<taruchi> my sides  
<Lemonmon> If you want to, rather than side, I would face to face ;)  
<taruchi> help

 

←←←

 

<Lemonmon> But it feels like I could improve so much more if it weren’t for this latency, you know? It’s not like I was planning to top any charts anyway, but it’s frustrating to think that my DPS is limited by bullshit I have no control over…  I’ve tried every VPN out there but all they do is shave off a few ms at most, so I can kiss double weaving goodbye  
<taruchi> whoa whoa whoa, where did this sudden fluency come from?  
<Lemonmon> I not know?

 

←←←

 

<taruchi> but don’t you get better ping on eu servers?  
<Lemonmon> No, all servers just as bad… so I come to Japan server to make Japan fried :D  
<taruchi> to make japanese friends, i take it ww  
<Lemonmon> One time I come and eat many shrimp sushi!  
<taruchi> you mean in the past or in the future?  
<Lemonmon> Silly Taruchi, I can play time mage, but game spells not work in real life, haha!  
<taruchi> if only they would  
<Lemonmon> IRL I can low level healing spells only  
<taruchi> yeah right  
<Lemonmon> I am not a lier! It compulsory education in my country DDD:  
<taruchi> who taught you to say “compulsory education”  
<taruchi> anyway i bet you mean first aid lol

 

←←←

 

<Lemonmon> 111121111122221223222322222222Skills now are not working! ??  
<taruchi> you were typing the commands in the chat log lmao  
<Lemonmon> NOOOOOOOOO Stupid keyboard  
<Lemonmon> Tank dead  
<Lemonmon> I dead :D  
<taruchi> gg healer  
<Lemonmon> You kill boss I cheer from cold floor :D

 

→→→→→→→→→→→→→→→→→→

 

Itaru smiled at that small taste of his cherished memories, from the last days they spent together up to the time he carried a noobie Lemon, who had just joined the guild, through his very first dungeon. Maybe he should have started from the oldest log, instead. It felt weird to see them progressively get less acquainted with each other, and watch Lemon’s Japanese skills regress.

To the present day, he still had no idea if Lemon’s shrimp sushi buffet dream had ever come true. The list of sushi places (he’d made sure all of them served plenty of shrimp nigiri) was still somewhere in his HD. He briefly wondered how many of them were still in business, and if they would ever go to one of them together.

Looking back, he should have seen it coming. Lemon had been dropping enough hints, but he hadn’t listened. The way he talked about visiting “someday”, but never dared to make solid plans, as if it was but a distant dream, and Itaru had never pushed for it due to his own insecurities. The way he mentioned that unknown family business as a burden, as if he was calling for help... Maybe Lemon would still be playing if he’d been better at expressing how much he needed him around. None of the exclusive items he’d left would ever make up for his absence, dammit. He didn’t care if it was cheesy, he’d give up all those things in a heartbeat, and yes, including the Holy Serpent set, if it meant he could have him back for one day.

He was tempted to send him a message, ask how he was faring. But after two years of radio silence (once hundred percent his own fault), he was afraid. Afraid that he’d just be a bother, that they wouldn’t have anything in common anymore, that he wouldn’t care to reply, that he had forgotten him. Rather than turn those precious memories into a source of pain, it might be better to let them sit, and dust them off from time to time to relive the fun days they spent together.

Last seen online: 783 days ago.

He missed him.

 

→

 

Dragging himself to bed took way too much effort, he didn’t feel like moving anymore. He’d spent more time looking back than he should have. Maybe things would have been easier if they had never met, that way he wouldn’t be missing a piece. He wondered if, one day, Neo would also leave and take another piece with him.

At times like these, when loneliness got the best of him, he would always seek out Sacchi. He needed her calming presence above anything else. He took his phone and swiped the lock screen away.

“Staying up late is the enemy of beauty! Sweet dreams, my dear manager ♥”

“Sorry, Sacchi… I know you’ll be disappointed when I show up with huge eyebags at work tomorrow.”

He stared at her.

“Say…” He wasn’t sure how he wanted to continue. “Say, do you think it’s worth it to get close to someone?”

He tapped her.

“Mona and I often go shopping together. Ehehe, we know each other’s tastes so well!”

“Haha, yeah… you do, don’t you... I’m glad you’re having fun.”

His eyes were starting to sting and he wasn’t having any of that. He let go of his phone, buried his face in his pillow and hoped his mind would go blank soon.


	6. Defrag

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning just in case: this chapter draws a lot from act 8 and thus may contain general spoilers, but nothing you couldn’t have guessed.  
> Extra babble: this was a weird one to write. Not fully satisfied with how it turned out, might never be, so better to post full of uncertainty than edit for 5 months and ultimately give up :D here goes nothing! (oh and please don’t worry about pairing bait-and-switch/Neo getting ntr’d, I couldn’t do that even if I wanted… but let’s celebrate his birthday by denying him the spotlight, yeah)

As unbelievable as it was, that email had no intention of disappearing, no matter how many times he reloaded his inbox. Lemon had written to him. _Lemon had written to him_. His heart was about to burst.

 

_Dearest Taruchi,_

_It has been a long time, hasn’t it? How have you been? My Japanese is not what it used to be, so I have had this letter translated. It may feel like an impersonal choice, but I hope my words will reach you more clearly this way._

_First of all, I wanted to apologize for leaving. There has not been a single day I haven’t thought about you, and about all I left behind. These have been some trying years, but now that I have a moment of peace, I want to start turning all my wrongs into rights, and you are my first priority._

_This takes me to the main purpose of this letter: I want you to come to my country. The following weeks will mark a turning point in my life, and yet, after all this time, I still have doubts about the direction I want it to take. I would ask you, my best friend, to stand next to me and lend me strength. I am convinced you will help me choose the correct path. I understand if you don’t want to listen to the selfish request of someone who once abandoned his people, but I know it is you I need._

_I have taken the liberty of preparing flight tickets for you, as well as sorting out the matter of your possible absence with your company. Needless to say, the decision is ultimately yours, but I would love to count with your support. I suppose we will have to give up on the sushi buffet for now, but I feel so excited whenever I think we may finally meet face to face. Of course, even if you choose not to come, I hope we can keep in contact. There are simply so many things I want to tell you!_

_Always yours,_

_Lemon_

_(Writing so stiff! My dummy helper is always say, not be “ill-manned”, and he changed a bit words. I am very sorry D: I study more, next time, I write myself all and I will not sound like a businessman!)_

 

In normal circumstances, the first thing that would come to mind would be a big fat “how”. Despite how close they were (and on that day, he believed he could proudly say _were_ again, and not _had been_ ), he had never shared any personal information with Lemon, so it was definitely strange for him to present Itaru with flight tickets to his name using his business email address. But he paid no mind to it. All he felt was elation.

 

➤

 

“Oh, Chigasaki. A little bird told me you’re going to Zahra, so bring me some of these.” Chikage showed him a rather long list of names he wasn’t familiar with, but assumed were spices of some sort.

“Eh? That’s a lot.”

“You’ll do this for your favorite senpai, won’t you,” he said, shoving the rolled up piece of paper in Itaru’s breast pocket.

“Favorite, you say. I won’t deny it, but the bar was set rather low, so don’t be too happy about it.”

“Heh.”

In retrospect, maybe that wasn’t something he should have said so lightly in public. But he paid no mind to it.

 

➤

 

“I’ll be going, then. You’ll guard the house for me while I’m away, right? I’m counting on you.”

He lightly caressed the cabinet’s glass window with a knuckle. Sacchi’s plastic features seemed a bit sad.

“Hey, it’s okay, I’ll be back soon. Come on, don’t give me this look…” He fiddled with the suitcase’s handle. “We’ve been friends since long before I met you. I owe him a lot, I can’t just leave him be now that he needs me.”

Her silence was incredibly loud.

“Yes, I know he left us all, but I’m sure he had his reasons. I need to go find out.”

He sighed, crouched down to her level and kissed the air.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be thinking of you. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

And thus he grabbed his roller suitcase and set off for a new adventure.

 

➤                                  

 

There was a man waiting for him at the airport. Tall, dark, and handsome, with an air of dignified composure: looks that completely clashed with the image that Lemon’s boisterous personality had formed in his mind.

He tentatively approached the man. “Lemon…?”

“Afraid not. I am but his attendant,” he replied, with a slight bow. “He wishes to extend you his deepest apologies for not being able to welcome you in person.”

“Attendant?!” That caught him off guard.

 

➤

 

Together, they began their journey across the small island in something akin to a limousine. Itaru had never seen a limo from the inside, or even up close, but he assumed that was one of them. All those formalisms, all those luxuries… What kind of hot shot was Lemon supposed to be? An explanation would be most welcome, he thought.

“Something like a family business, wasn’t it?” a squeaky voice said. A tiny, cotton candy-haired boy had materialized on Itaru’s shoulder. “What if… what if he’s being groomed to become the head of the Zahran mafia?”

“Who, or what, are you?”

The boy’s expression turned into a look of pure terror. He put his hands on his head and began to run in circles around the air, supported by tiny flapping wings. “What if they are asking him to sacrifice a beloved friend as proof of his commitment? They just needed to invest in a couple plane tickets to have a bunch of fresh organs deliver themselves to their doors and aaaaaahhh!!!”

Family business. It checked out. He didn’t know anymore. Was he in danger?

“You’re in danger! Run away!” the fairy boy said.

 “Are you quite alright? You look pale.”

The attendant, who had earlier introduced himself as Guy, pointedly looked at him and made a gesture to the chauffeur. The car stopped.

“Some fresh air might do you good,” he continued. “It was rather inconsiderate of us to lock you up in a car right after a long flight.”

Itaru nodded, wobbled out of the car and considered his options. If he wanted to make a run for it, that might be his only chance. He took a deep breath and darted off towards the horizon, as fast as his numb, weakened legs would take him.

He had barely run for ten seconds when he heard a voice beside him. “Oh, stretching your legs. Also a very fine idea. I will accompany you, if you do not mind.”

He would have screamed if he wasn’t already out of breath. And he must have fainted from the shock, too, because the next thing he knew, he was back inside the limousine, the Zahran countryside passing him by outside the window.

Guy cleared his throat. “It seems you were having a nightmare. You mentioned a fairy,” he said, covering a tiny smile with a big hand. “And the mafia. Forgive my indiscretion, but…” his expression transformed into a dead serious stare. Itaru gulped. “If you happen to be in trouble, do tell us. I am sure Citronia… ahem, I am sure His Royal Highness would do anything in his power to help a friend in need.”

Hold on. _His Royal Motherfucking Highness_?

 

➤

 

His mouth must have dropped really hard back then, because Guy finally took it upon himself to give him some much needed context. Alright, so it turned out Itaru had been fooling around for years with the crown prince of Zahra, and he’d only found out now. He got it, he did—you don’t just go and tell your guildmates you’re part of the royal family, there are a bunch of reasons not to do so, but maybe knowing would have spared him many nights of worry back when he disappeared.

The rest of their journey was spent exchanging tales of raid progression and heartwarming stories of Prince Citronia’s childhood. While Itaru had been able to forget about conspiracy theories involving trafficking with his vital organs, the closer they got to their destination, the more apprehensive he felt. Needless to say, he was excited at the prospect of finally meeting, but he never expected having to deal with royalty.

“Say, is there any specific protocol I should observe here? Wouldn’t wanna screw up right from the start.”

Guy chuckled. “Not unless you come as a representative, rather than as a friend.”

He might be right. Prince or not, at the core, it was just Lemon, his co-leader and dear friend. Once the initial shock was over, they should be able to get along as well as they did years ago. He steeled himself and followed his guide down the sumptuous hallways.

…Well, supposedly steeled himself. By the time they arrived at the doors of the prince’s chambers, his legs felt more like lead.

Three polite knocks. “Your Highness, your guest has arrived.”

“Let him in!” That muffled voice that came from inside had to be Lemon’s. Yes, there was no reason for two Zahrans to talk to each other in Japanese, but he paid no mind to it. He was there he was there he was right there—

“Taruchi!!”

As soon as he stepped inside, a vision in silk and gold brocade ran his way and tackled him with such enthusiasm he was surprised he managed to stand on his feet. Might be the lead legs. For a moment, he was unsure how to proceed, but the emotions that had been piling up during all those years were too strong: he hugged his friend back as tight as he managed, and it felt right. Screw protocol. He’d been wanting to do that forever.

They eventually loosened the hug and used that moment to take a good look at each other. Finally putting a face to the person he’d shared so much with felt… weird, honestly. It was hard enough to process the fact that Lemon was a flesh and blood human being, let alone a prince. A prince with a handsome face, rich silk robes, and personal chambers bigger than Itaru’s whole apartment. He said the first thing that came to mind before the silence became too uncomfortable for him.

“Hey, so you don’t have big ears or pimples after all.”

Lemon (or Citronia, rather?) beamed at him, diamond white teeth contrasting with his tan skin. “And you are not ugly!” Then he frowned in concentration, mouth parted, as if he was trying to form words and said words didn’t feel like cooperating. “Sorry, my Japanese skill level down…”

He’d already forgotten his perfectly fluent exchange with Guy moments ago.

“No worries. I’m pretty confident in my interpreting abilities, at least when it comes to you.”

“That’s my Taruchi! As dependable like always!” He flashed him another 1000000000 megawatt smile, and Itaru returned it, feeling stupid for ever fearing they’d have grown apart.

 

➤

 

“This room stay closed over two years. I think must be very dusty …”

Citron, as he’d asked to be called, was holding a very unprincely microfiber rag on one hand, and a key on the other.

To acquire that key, they’d had to go through quite the demanding treasure hunt: it was inside a locked tiny coffer inside a lacquered box inside a false bottom drawer in one of the cabinets found at the scullery. To find the combination that would open the lock, they had to follow the clues listed on the scroll inside the lacquered box, which took them to explore the palace’s every nook and cranny, including secret passages, fountains with centuries old scribbles, dungeons turned warehouses, or hidden compartments in old books concealed in the darkest corners of the palace’s colossal library. Someone had made sure no one would set foot in that room accidentally. The lazy part of him was saying they should have just filched the spare copy of the key from that someone, but solving the puzzles had been lots of fun, and completing the quest made him feel like he’d earned the right to finally step inside. ~~~~

Gentle sun beams shining on airborne motes of dust through the window blinds. A desk with a triple monitor, just like his own. A printed out timeline of a boss fight released over two years before. An open kanji textbook, worn and dog eared, full of writing attempts and clumsy doodles. A pile of plastic cases near a gaming console. On top of them, a headset that had never been unboxed. On the wall, a perfect replica of that one hannya mask, as ugly as ever.

“My hideout! Enjoy your stay!” Citron made a welcoming gesture with his arms and started wiping dust off the monitors with his rag.

“This place feels more _you_ than anything I’ve seen since I got here,” Itaru said, grinning at a framed hand-drawn picture of their old raid team, which seemed to have been done by a five year old.

“It is the part of me you know,” he replied. That didn’t sit well with Itaru.

“You never saw fit to share the rest.”

Citron stopped wiping and looked at him with an apologetic expression. “I—”

“Wait, wait, wait. Let’s remove that line from the logs. It never happened, okay?” He covered his face with his hands, ashamed. “Even I know there’s stuff you can’t just tell people on the internet.”

“Itaru.”

“And I’m here now, so I can finally learn about the other side of you.” He peeked between his fingers and saw Citron nodding at him.

“But the part of me you know is the part I like most,” he said with a gentle smile.

Damn, that had been one highly destructive attack. Itaru wanted to cling to Citron and bawl and beg him to never leave again, but he also wanted to keep some semblance of dignity, so he forced himself to stay put.

“I missed you badly, you know.”

“Me too. Every day I wished I was back.”

“Then why did you have to leave in the first place? Even an hour a week would have been okay. I’d have helped you with whatever you needed.”

Citron bit his lip. “First I had lessons all day. Then I wanted to try, but I was afraid…”

“Afraid? I’m the one who was afraid you stopped caring!”

“You never wrote me, I thought you were mad at me.”

“Of course I was mad. I was hurt. You said you’d have less time to play, not that you’d,” his voice cracked, “that you’d up and disappear. But that’s not why I didn’t write, I just… I should have…”

Citron shut him up with his fingertips.

“It is my fault. I ran away first.”

He wanted to keep arguing, but Citron’s determined look was powerful enough to make him surrender. He rested his head on his friend’s shoulder and tried his best not to cry, but couldn’t prevent an ugly sob from tearing through the silence.

“Fucking hell.”

A big hand stroked his hair, once, twice. He felt like a child, but being a child wasn’t so bad, in the end. He wished they could stay like that for a while.

“It’s okay now. We are okay.”

 

➤

 

After their cathartic mini-argument, he was serene enough to forget about past misgivings and start taking in the full picture. They talked about the coronation ceremony that would take place in a matter of weeks. He took note of Citron’s furrowed brow while he was filling him in. He assumed it was due to the mental strain of picking the correct words in a foreign language. That didn’t feel quite right; however, any doubts he might have had were eclipsed by the knowledge that he was happily taking a walk with the soon-to-be king. Life had some unexpected twists.

“Be right back! Garden is big, so don’t become lost.”

He ran off somewhere after Itaru sent him off with a lazy wave and a “roger”. With the towering palace constantly in his field of view, there was no way he could get too lost, so he continued his promenade under the jasmines. As beautiful as the view was, he wasn’t exactly the outdoorsy type, so he soon started wishing he had a roof over him, and a couch, and his phone, and damn, Citron was taking his sweet time, wasn’t he.

A growl came from a few meters away, and he felt a chill run down his spine. As it turned out, taking a stroll around the garden by himself had been a way worse idea than he’d imagined. There was a leopard, two leopards, circling him, and getting closer by the moment. That was not good. He was painfully aware that his agility was too low to climb on a tree, and he had no guarantee they wouldn’t follow him up there. His speed was no match for theirs, either. What to do, play dead? Would that work? Hard to give it a shot when he was paralyzed with fear. Street thugs were the sort of fauna he could try and bribe, but carnivorous cats were a whole new level of difficulty. _No, calm down, there’s no way they’d let a pair of untrained human-eating beasts freely roam the palace grounds_. Those two had to be guarding the gardens to fend off suspicious strangers. Unfortunately for Itaru, he was very much a stranger there.

One of the beasts pounced on him, its sharp claws digging into his shirt. It opened its mouth, and all he could see was drool pooling around very pointy teeth, teeth that seemed to be getting closer and closer to his face. Is that how he would end, inside the stomach of a pair of ravenous predators? It wasn’t a very fitting death for a couch potato gamer, was it. Must be payback for all the big cats he’d hunted for leather materials.

However, while he was trying to make peace with the idea of becoming the beasts’ breakfast, Delinquent F’s… no, Citron’s voice rang across the garden. “Carmilla! Ebitarou! Sit!”

As soon as they heard their owner’s voice, the two leopards left Itaru alone and obediently sat down. He stayed on the floor catching his breath and thanking the heavens while his savior jogged to his side.

“Don’t be scared, they have come to say hello only!”

“It was a rather… intense greeting,” he said, still shaken, as Citron helped him up. He wasn’t made for those near death experiences.

“Yes! They always full of energy.” _Like someone I know_ , Itaru thought, cracking half a smile. “But they are good boys. Here, pet them with me.”

“Can’t these beasts smell fear? I’d rather they didn’t bite my fingers off.”

“Not fingers, they like insides more.”

Totally reassured by Citron’s words, he brought a shaky hand close to the left ear of one of the two leopards, and gingerly caressed it. Was that one Ebitarou? Ebitarou purred. Maybe they weren’t so bad.

“Heh, I wish I could see Neo’s face when I tell him about all this.”

“Neo.” Citron looked at him with an unreadable expression. “Is he the new me?”

 _Was_ he? He compared them often, consciously or not. He felt a pang of guilt.

“No. Neo is Neo, you are you.”

“Hmmm.”

He was having trouble returning Citron’s keen gaze, so he looked away, turning his attention back to the big felines.

 

➤

 

He picked up a polished pure gold spoon from the pile. “Damn, now this is what I call extravagance.”

“Itaru, I want to know. Is it silverware if made of gold?”

He considered it for a few moments. “I have no idea and now it’s going to bug me too, good job,” he said as he twirled the spoon around the air. “You actually eat with these?”

“Only when we have celebrations. But my favorite is this instead.” Citron held up a pair of plastic chopsticks with a popular bear mascot design. “Original Japanese yuru-chara!”

“Oh wow, forget the gold set, you should use these at the coronation banquet.”

“Maybe,” he replied, eyeing the chopsticks as if they were the perfect tool to start a revolt.

“But still, come on, solid gold tableware!” Itaru continued. “I bet you have private jets and helicopters and that sort of stuff too.”

“Not helicopter, but we have elephants!” Citron flashed him a conspiring grin. “Do you want to ride mine? But your behind will hurt after, lots of bouncing.”

He snickered despite himself.

“Why are you laughing? Is this a Japanese joke?” That supposedly candid reaction made him burst out laughing, and Citron kept staring at him, head cocked. “Is it funny to ride someone’s elephant?”

“You know exactly what you’re doing picking these words, don’t you,” he replied, wheezing.

A slight impish smile shone through Citron’s inquisitive expression. “No!”

Itaru wiped a few tears from his eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m mentally five years old.”

“I knew already, Taruchi.”

“Ouch.”

 

➤

 

He spent his days accompanying Citron as he taste-tested exquisite dishes for the upcoming banquet, chose from the finest fabrics the market could offer to make garments fit for the occasion, or graciously accepted a wide array of presents imported from every corner of the world. He liked to pretend his role was that of an advisor, and he was glad that the prince would listen whenever he commented on how those colors would suit him, or how that sauce needed more salt. When dealing with both servants and guests alike, Citron was every bit as kind, charming and skilled as he remembered him being years ago. Nevertheless, at times, once he was left alone, he’d have that inexplicable crestfallen look.

At night, they would retire to the hideout and play until the wee hours of the morning, though Citron still refused to log in and say hi to the guildies. Too early, he said. Itaru felt that he shouldn’t push too much for it, so instead he bugged him to buy a second controller already. Not that he minded taking turns. That way, 50% of the time, he could dedicate all of his attention to teasing him about how rusty he was. He did earn a few light smacks to the head. Regardless of his words, after knowing each other for so long, neither of them felt the need to show off, they were able to simply relax together: a stark contrast from the game of constant one-upmanship in his sessions with Neo, the way they pushed each other further and further with barely a break. He wondered how Neo was doing.

While he enjoyed those days of opulence and leisure, he watched Citron’s Japanese improve again, and at times he even felt brave enough to try and learn a bit of his friend’s mother tongue. Itaru knew he’d have to go back to his regular salaryman life at some point, but he didn’t want to think too hard about it, the same way he didn’t want to think too hard about why he caught Citron looking upset more and more often with every passing day.

 

➤

 

Itaru rolled around in the huge canopy bed installed in the middle of the room.

“Aaah, this is great! I wanna stay here forever.”

“You like it? It gets tedious after a while.”

“Are you kidding? You’re surrounded by all this luxury, this ultra high quality stuff,” he said, palming the silk sheets, “all these people ready to do whatever you ask them to…”

“They expect things from me, too.”

“…I mean, you even have your own personal harem! That’s what I call living the dream.”

“It’s empty!”

“Then I’ll sign up for it. Free delicious food, comfy beds, unlimited free time, not having to show up at work ever again…” He rolled around the cushion pile some more. “Damn, it would be glorious. I’m staying here.”

“Even if the high ping here screws up your rotation nine times out of ten?”

“Some sacrifices need to be made.”

Citron leaned over him, grinning. “I see. So you’re going to help me produce an heir, too.”

Itaru laughed. “Okay, that might be a bit impossible.”

“Already evading your duties to your king, aren’t you. Lazy Taruchi,” he said, repeatedly poking him on the cheek.

“You might be the king, but I am your guildmaster.”

He attempted to poke him back, but Citron grabbed him by the wrist. His gleeful smile was blinding.

“Oh? Then, as punishment for throwing your position around, I’ll forget to heal you next time, Leader!”

“Pot, kettle, black, Your Majesty.” He paused. “Hey, does that mean you’re coming back soon?”

Citron opened his mouth to reply, but a few knocks interrupted him. He sat up and hurriedly straightened his disheveled hair and clothes before answering the door. During the brief exchange with whoever was on the other side, Itaru couldn’t help but notice the difference in his friend’s body language and attitude. One public appearance and one private appearance, as he’d once called it. Itaru was glad he was able to see the private side, but he wasn’t ready for Citron’s dispirited look once the servant had been dismissed.

“Bad news?”

“They’re quizzing me on foreign customs and international affairs first thing in the morning. I have to be a good host during the celebrations and all that.” He sat back down on the edge of the mattress. “So here it is, the final stretch.”

At that point, he remembered his last conversation with Neo. He’d said something about a world history quiz, hadn’t he. Days or weeks were supposed to have gone by since that time, so why did it feel like it had happened hours earlier? Ah, anyway.

“Looks like not even princes can escape academics.”

“I have a whole army of instructors ready to make my head explode.”

Itaru chuckled. “I bet they say the same about their pupil.”

“I can’t say I’ve never tried!”

“Any luck?”

“Hmm, I don’t think I’ve made anyone quit since I was 13.”

“Weak.”

“I’ll have to try harder from now on. Let’s fighting!” he said, striking a pose.

“That’s the spirit.” After a few moments of silence, he placed a hand on Citron’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about tomorrow, you’ll do great.”

“Thank you.” He lightly squeezed Itaru’s hand. “But I’d rather fail.”

 

➤

 

Citron spent the day signing the last batch of invitation letters to the ceremony, so Itaru inevitably spent it watching how his expression darkened with every envelope he sealed, or how his knuckles turned white from gripping the quill too tightly. For the first time during his stay, he became aware of the real weight of his friend’s burden, what the crown would mean. He felt like an idiot for being blinded by luxury and forgetting about their past conversations, his subtle calls for help, the very letter that made him travel to his side.

Choose the correct path, those were the keywords. There was nothing correct about a path that would make the light in his eyes grow dim with every day. He had to do something about it. Maybe that was the reason he was brought there, maybe he had a power no one else had.

 

➤

 

“He once asked me to stop him in his tracks if he was ever tempted to run away.”

He narrowed his eyes at Guy. “And would you do it?”

“I have watched him grow up. I know he would rather be somewhere else… someone else, even. But I also know there is no one better suited for the throne.”

“Sacrifice one life for the benefit of many, huh.”

“I suppose that fits.”

“Don’t you think that’s cruel?”

“It would be far crueler to let our nation be led by someone inadequate. That is what he believes, too.”

“I’m going to try anyway. Can’t stand the idea of letting him waste away like this.”

“In this case, I will pretend this conversation never existed.”

Itaru smiled. “Haha, thanks. You’re cooler than I thought.”

“Cooler…?”

 

➤

 

He found Citron standing on the terrace, arms folded over the balustrade, eyes set somewhere far, far away on the evening sky. Itaru then realized he’d come full of determination but without a plan. He stood at a distance, considering the best way to approach the subject.

“Itaru.”

“Yeah?”

“When you go back to Japan, can you take me with you?”

So that time, too, Citron was a step ahead. He knew he wasn’t talking about a sightseeing trip, but he needed to make sure. “You don’t want this, do you? Any of…” he gestured towards the palace, “this.”

Citron slightly shrugged, cracking a pained smile. That was enough.

“Come with me, then. I have no idea how to smuggle people across borders, but let’s find a way. I’ll get you out of here.”

“I’m just kidding, of course! I’m not going to run away.”

“That’s a forced smile if I’ve ever seen one.”

“Everyone is working hard for my sake, they have been all these years, so now it’s my turn. I owe it to them.”

“Even then, you should have the last say. It’s your life.”

“Someone has to do it.” Itaru noticed he was looking downwards, at the garden, rather than at the stars. “And I can’t dump this responsibility on my brothers. They aren’t ready,” he added, with a rather hard expression.

Itaru leaned on the railing beside him. “Leading a country has gotta be scary. And to think I kept whining about managing the guild…”

Citron chuckled. “That can be scary, too!”

“Yeah, like that time we had that creepster stalking our bard.”

“Or when Marimo got accused of stealing from the chest.”

“Oh god, don’t remind me. Poor guy didn’t even know how it worked.” He snickered. “Hey, you still remember all their names?”

Citron opened his mouth so wide it could fit a toad inside. “Of course I do! You man of little trust.”

“Faith, not trust.”

“Oh! Mistake!”

“Haha, never change.”

They spent some time exchanging memories from what felt like centuries ago. It was reassuring to know that, despite his status, and despite the passing of time, the man standing next to him was still his dependable and enthusiastic co-leader, and he couldn’t wait for the day they’d be able to stand side by side once again. Maybe things would settle down soon enough and they’d be able to play together like they used to. He could only hope.

“Do you think they’ll accept me back?”

“They better. If anyone complains, they’re getting kicked.”

“No kicking!”

“I mean, you were more of a leader to them than I’ve ever been.”

“Not true. I know you care a lot about everyone deep down.”

“I guess.”

“… Deep, deep down,” he continued.

“Oh you.”

After some more laughter, they fell silent. He kept watching Citron’s pensive profile. There he was, rooted into place by thousands of hands firmly gripping his limbs: duty, expectations, tradition, his people, fate. He was supposed to soar instead. It was unfair.

“So I guess your mind is set,” he said, gripping the railing, “and nothing I can say will change the way things are.”

He nodded. “I know there’s someone out there who’d be willing to become a wanted criminal for my sake. That’ll keep me going.”

“What’s the punishment for kidnapping a prince, anyway?”

“Having your toes eaten by a crocodile.”

Itaru snorted. “That’s oddly specific.”

“It’s common knowledge here! Even kindergarteners know.”

“Healing spells and criminal law. Your schools sound terrifying.” He ran a restless hand through his hair. “But seriously. There has to be something I can do for you. I can’t just go back home like nothing happened, now that I know you’re here.”

Citron stared at him with wistful eyes, long enough to make him tense up. “Do you like it here?”

“Yeah, your place is awesome. I’d be too embarrassed to show you mine now,” he admitted with a bitter laugh. “But above all, I’m happy we got to spend time together again. I had almost given up on the idea…”

Citron cupped Itaru’s face with warm, bony hands. “Then, would you stay with me?”

The request took him by surprise. A lump formed in his throat, preventing him from uttering any words. However, he knew the answer, and wanted to convey it right then. Of course he would. There was no way he could say no.

As soon as he nodded, he heard the distinct sound of bells coming from the distance. The universe started whirling before his eyes, and he appeared before the altar of a sunlit temple, suddenly clad in silk robes to match Citron’s. The hall was adorned with colorful drapes and a myriad flowers; celebration was in the air. Citron’s fingers were still caressing his cheeks, just as warm.

“Thank you. I promise I’ll make you happy.”

Then, in a swift maneuver, he put his hands around Itaru’s back and under his knees, picking him up princess style. He carried him down the central aisle, down the temple’s steps, parting the blurry cheering crowd and enduring their incessant petal shower with a look of pure bliss. At the background of those loud cheers and applauses, the unceasing crescendo of ringing bells, ding dong, ding dong, ding dong, ding beep dong, beep ding dong, ding dong beep beep ding beep beep dong beep beep beep ding beep beep beep beep dong beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep

 

Itaru woke up with his heart racing. He turned his head to one side, then the other, looking for Citron. He was in his room. Citron wasn’t there. Citron might not even exist.

“Aaaaaaaaaah this sucks!”

He blindly flung his arm to the side, hoping to hit the alarm clock. On the one hand, he was relieved he hadn’t just gotten married for real, but he already hated mornings enough without having to deal with that horrible feeling of emptiness. “It was all a dream”? Really? Was there a more frustrating ending? Still, he wanted, needed, to keep the memory alive, so he did the first thing he could think of, which, for some reason, was opening Lime and writing to Neo.

_i just had a weird ass dream_  
_need to write it down before i forget_  
_rejoice, mortal, for you shall be the vessel of my dormant mind’s infinite wisdom_

 

→

 

After the initial scramble, in the middle of the train ride to work, the harsh bigger picture started to sink in. Lemon had never written to him. He’d never said he needed him, that he was excited to have him back. He’d just been shown what he wanted to see the most just to lose it all again, and it sucked hard. He wanted to kick the other passengers’ kneecaps.

He was saved from his violent impulses and gloomy train of thought by his phone buzzing. Neo’s reply. Perfect, he needed some distraction.

 _gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyyyy_  
_dream about me next time  
i wanna be royalty too_

_why, need material for your taruchi/neo harem fantasies?_

_no ty  
and its neo/taruchi, youre the concubine here_

That brat.

_heh  
what makes you think i’d ever surrender my ass to you?_

_inductive reasoning  
but lets see what people think_

_and why the hell would people have an opinion on this?_

_welcome to the internet mr celebrity gamer_  
_lemme look it up_  
_neotaru 473 results_

_i can’t believe this concept actually exists, also nice egosurfing_

20 seconds passed without news from Neo, and he started getting impatient.

_so?  
who wins?_

_…_  
_fuck_  
_taruneo 512 results_

Ah, sweet victory. Itaru’s satisfied look was intense enough to make the other commuters scoot away from him.

_HA  
status: [ ]not told   [ ]told   [x]super ultra told mode_

_wow taruchi thats old_

_fitting words for a teenage fuckboy  
oh, that’s my station, see you_

_you just needed to have the last word didnt you_

 

→

 

“The royal family of Zahra?” Chikage looked up from the Mt. Wasabi he’d erected on his cafeteria lunch. “They got the axe over a hundred years ago. Zahra’s a parliamentary republic.”

“Wait, really?” Itaru had to admit he felt a bit disappointed.

“No, not really. There are talks about crowning a new king soon.” He perked up. No way that could be… “Why the sudden interest?”

“It’s nothing, I just had a weird dream last night.”

“Which I suppose you won’t tell me about.”

“You’d just laugh at me, so no.”

“Oh, now you’ve made me curious.” Chikage leaned over the table and lowered his voice. “So, about that mysterious coffee stain that appeared on the boss’s freshly dry cleaned jacket the other day…”

“It was an accident!” Itaru whispered back.

“That thing was high quality…”

“I’d had two hours of sleep!”

“…Italian brand, I hear. I wonder how many months we’d need to work to afford it.”

“Okay, okay, you win! Bah, it’s really stupid.” He looked away, feeling silly. “I dreamt I met the crown prince.”

“Business meeting, or fairytale meeting?”

“Senpai…”

“Anyway, you probably saw the news somewhere and your subconscious did the rest of the work.”

“Yeah, that would make sense, wouldn’t it.” It was the most logical explanation, but not the most satisfactory. It bummed him out.

Neither of them felt the need to continue the conversation, so Itaru went back to munching on his soggy karaage. He knew the odds were low, infinitesimal, even. But Lemon’s disappearance, the family business he never heard any details about, the dream… He wanted it all to make sense, to have some meaning. If there was something he knew for sure after all their time together, it was that the crafty yet kind-hearted Lemon would make a great king.

In all honesty, the idea of him being a royal made him feel even further away, out of reach. Perfect, another excuse not to contact him, another excuse to chicken out. _Maybe one day_ , he thought, _when I’m a better person_. Until then, he hoped Lemon wouldn’t forget him, wherever he was.


	7. Triangular

By the end of the work day, his memories of the dream were muddled and hazy. He tried to hold onto as many details as he possibly could, and yet, each time he focused on one, another bunch of them would use the opportunity to flee his mind and never return. The outline he’d texted to Neo was supposed to be an instrument to recall the full thing, but that didn’t work as intended. Instead, every time he saw his name when accessing the conversation, he’d remember that one cursed line.

_Neo… Is he the new me?_

He hadn’t dared to add that bit to the narration that morning, of course. Not the sort of thing he wanted to share. But those words wouldn’t stop haunting him, precisely the ones he’d like to forget the most. He’d believed them at first, he had, but the more he thought about it, the less sense they made. You don’t miss someone who’s been replaced, not so badly.

He made his way to the station on full autopilot, preoccupied with the technicalities of replacement. You could replace a piece in a system; you could substitute an element for something of equal value. The sheer amount of time and experiences he’d shared with Lemon versus Neo actually being, well, _there_. Yes, there was no way he could say one was more valuable than the other, and yes, it was true that Neo was the one whose company he’d seek by default, like Lemon had been years ago. But the idea that he’d let someone take Lemon’s place was insulting, and so was the idea of using Neo as a simple backup. They both deserved their own slot, why should he overwrite one with the other?

“Ah!”

The sudden yell made Itaru jump. He turned towards the source to see a young man about to invade his personal space bubble, basket of pocket tissue advertisements in hand. He didn’t need any tissues or whatever service they were offering, but the kid was too close to walk away.

He spoke slowly, staring at him with big amber eyes. “Mister, you’re making a really scary face. Are you okay?”

Itaru’s first instinct was to snap at him, his face was nobody’s business, but the young man’s toothy smile and big droopy eyes had max level disarming power, and he wouldn’t have been able to say something hurtful without feeling like a real piece of shit afterwards. While he was looking for a vague curt answer of some sort to get him off his case, the kid started rummaging in his pockets with a frown of absolute concentration.

“Here,” he finally said, placing a pack of tissues in Itaru’s hand and clasping his own around it. “They will help make your worries fly away. I folded them myself!”

“Um, thanks,” Itaru said, a bit perplexed, and rather curious about the tissue folding labor. “So these aren’t regular tissues?”

The kid shook his head. “They have a special triangle power,” he announced, looking proud of himself.

Triangle power, huh. It smelled like one of those pseudoscience-y energy healing scams, but that boy didn’t exactly have the look of a seasoned charlatan, and he didn’t seem to have any overpriced amulets or fake moonstones to try and shove down Itaru’s throat. He seemed content enough with him simply taking the (allegedly) magical tissues, expecting no compensation.

“I’ll take good care of them, then,” he said, holding them out and nodding at the enigmatic tissue peddler.

“Yup! I know they’ll do something nice for you.” He took a few steps back and waved. “See you again!”

Itaru weakly waved back and resumed his walk to the station, thinking about triangles and the supernatural. He considered turning around, just to check if the young man was still standing on the sidewalk with his pocket tissue basket, but he didn’t. Something told him he wouldn’t find him there, like he’d dissolved into thin air.

 

▶

 

The evening rush was as bad as one would expect, but thankfully there was enough free space on the train car to move his hands around. He took his phone, used enough stamina to avoid overflowing for a while, and made enough event points to nudge his way back into his chosen tier. Once that was out of the way, he turned his attention back to the pocket tissues.

The palm-sized pack didn’t have a discount coupon for any store, or the contact details of any insurance company. It had a card with a drawing, instead: a bunch of copies of that popular mascot, Sankaku-kun, locking arms to make a circle in the air, as if they were skydiving. In the middle of their circle, the word “friends!” appeared in careful yet unrefined handwriting. He opened the pack to take one of the magical tissues, and chuckled when he realized it had been painstakingly folded to make a tissue paper plane.

He couldn’t help but soften up at the weirdly adorable sight. Maybe that was their maker’s purpose, simply painting a smile on the faces of ornery people like himself. As it turned out, he did need the service those tissues were offering. He took a quick picture and shared it with Neo.

_just got these kooky tissues  
kinda cute, aren’t they_

Not a minute had passed when his phone started buzzing like an angry bumblebee, displaying the name “NEO” in the center of the screen. He panicked and almost dropped it in the middle of the crowded car, but somehow managed to keep it on his hands and reject the call. An actual phone call, that was a first.

_can’t talk now, i’m on the train_

_where are you_

_on the train, i just told you_

_which train_

_the one back home, duh  
what’s with the rush?_

Neo’s reply came in the shape of a picture, one that made him freeze: slender fingers holding a pack of pocket tissues and, on top, a small piece of cardboard with a drawing of Sankaku-kun holding hands with another Sankaku-kun. Despite the designs being so simple, it was clear both their cards had been drawn by the same hand.

_got this like a minute ago_  
_these are drawn with a ballpoint pen_  
_definitely not printed_  
_you know what i mean right_

He did. They could have passed each other around town, maybe multiple times, without ever knowing. He could perfectly picture Neo walking the very same streets he’d walked minutes earlier, being stopped by the same strange tissue boy and offered a matching pack. “I know they’ll do something nice for you,” he’d said. Had that boy known, somehow? Was that the triangle power he’d mentioned? Ha, as if. It had to be a coincidence. Luck. Good or bad, he wasn’t so sure.

To him, Neo was a bunch of pixels moving around on his screen. He was a voice that came out of a speaker. Yes, on a rational level, he knew there was a flesh and blood human behind all that, but he had never had to fully acknowledge him as one, as a being that existed on the same plane of reality as him. The revelation that he was so close was a game changer. With that new premise, there was only one logical way their conversation could develop, and he wasn’t ready for it.

He tried to type a reply, something that would both show he’d actually read the messages and encourage Neo to change the subject. Nothing good came to mind. He would type a word, delete it, type another one, delete it again with a frown. While he was staring at the screen waiting for divine inspiration, Neo wrote again.

_how was your day btw_

Thank goodness for Neo’s ability to read between the lines. Or lack of lines. He was safe, at least for a little longer. And still, he couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed that he hadn’t popped the question.

_tiring as hell  
what about you, aced the test as usual?_

→→→

 

<NEO> another match?  
<taruchi> give me a few minutes, still need to whip something up for dinner  
<NEO> dinner  
<NEO> are you aware its 0:37  
<taruchi> well now i am!  
<taruchi> no wonder i was so hungry  
<NEO> lmao go eat  
<taruchi> but i’m feeling too lazy to cook anything  
<NEO> when are you not  
<taruchi> touché  
<NEO> hurry up and get some sustenance you freak  
<taruchi> neo calling me a freak  
<taruchi> i feel so honored  
<NEO> just goooooooooo already

For once, he did as he was told, and dragged himself to the kitchen. He peeked inside the fridge and opened a few cupboards. As expected, there was not much to work with. He stuck a pack of precooked rice in the microwave. With nothing but sauce as a topping, if it could be called such, it was a sad affair, but it was enough. He just wished he had a bag of chips as a side dish.

Past midnight. It was time, time to collect his login bonuses. He started the daily ritual by loading CuCa and…

“Huh, new version again.”

He impatiently waited for the download to finish while nibbling on his chopsticks. Not a minute later he was greeted by an unfamiliar sight, a brand new illustration on the title screen featuring the whole cast in champagne gold dresses. Under the logo, a lettered ribbon which read SECOND ANNIVERSARY. So it had been that long already.

He could remember that night two years ago without much effort. He was mad, sad, idle, feeling cast aside and desperately trying to find something to occupy his mind with. The then newly released gacha game, the first thing to catch his attention while mindlessly browsing some site, had turned out to be perfect for that purpose, even more than he’d initially hoped. At times, he would even tell himself the reason he suffered a loss was so that he’d meet Sacchi, his ray of sunshine, the one who would never leave his side. But that didn’t sound quite right anymore.

He tapped the bonus screens away. Sacchi was waiting for him, as she always was, now wearing a knit cap and scarf. The weather was getting cold, he couldn’t bear to see her in a spring dress.

“So it’s been two years… I promise I’ll keep working hard to grow both as a model and as a person. You’ll keep watching over me, won’t you, Manager?”

Itaru directed a soft smile at the screen. “Of course I will. Let’s fill another year with precious memories, shall we?”

He meant those words. And yet, it just wasn’t the same when the one on the other side couldn’t acknowledge them, was it. Replacing. Overwriting. Had it all just been an attempt to fill a hole left by someone else? No. No no no, Sacchi would be so sad if she heard that, and that was the last thing he wanted. Of course he loved her, those feelings were real, he was okay if she couldn’t love him back. He knew from the beginning it was going to be like that. That was just how things were. He loved her.

 

<NEO> are you back or what  
<NEO> how long can it take to add water to your instant noodles geez  
<NEO> taruchi you slowpoke  
<NEO> come on man im bored  
<taruchi> back  
<NEO> fuckin finally  
<taruchi> for the record, it wasn’t instant noodles this time  
<NEO> who cares  
<taruchi> rude  
<taruchi> i thought you cared about my nutritional habits!  
<NEO> sigh not again  
<taruchi> such betrayal :’(  
<NEO> lets go already

So there was someone willing to wait for him, other than the 2D girl on his home screen. He fleetingly wondered how long it would last.

 

→→→

 

That day, the algorithm of fate had set them up with a pair of tight-lipped baddies. They were able to tell from the first pack they’d be stuck in that dungeon for a while, and neither felt the need to rush it, so they chose to distract themselves by shooting the breeze, that is to say, ripping their party mates apart in their private chat.

<taruchi> did this archer just shoot a thunder arrow at the scenery  
<taruchi> yes he did

Neo’s flat tone didn’t hide his annoyance. “And that’s why it’s getting axed soon, ‘cause making sure you’re targeting something before wasting a cooldown is too hard.”

<taruchi> why not try to improve the quality of the playerbase instead of dumbing down the game?

“You’re asking for too much here.” He sighed and continued mashing keys to keep their disaster of a tank afloat.

<taruchi> remember the ninth dark avenger?  
<taruchi> i miss the guy  
<taruchi> let’s trade him for these two

“You just want an excuse to RP again.”

<taruchi> you caught me  
<taruchi> why don’t you try it too someday

Neo snorted. “No way, I have something called self respect.”

<taruchi> i think you’d be good at it, what with your mastery of corny lines

“That doesn’t make me happy to hear.”

<taruchi> no fun

Itaru checked out the party list to watch the tank’s health dip as he got clawed from behind over and over by a pack of angry lizards. Ouch.

<taruchi> anyway  
<taruchi> should we tell this guy he’s supposed to face the mobs he’s tanking?

“Nah, it’s fun to see how long I can keep him alive.”

<taruchi> or do you enjoy healing under pressure  
<taruchi> yeah that

“It’s good training.”

For the first time, the paper tank graced the party chat with his words:

<Mobuhiko1> caster stop afk

Right, with all the typing he’d neglected the mobs for too long. Why couldn’t those people let him slack off in peace? He muttered a curse, loud enough for the microphone to pick it up, and started casting a random elemental spell on the pack.

“Ignore them,” Neo said.

“Yeah.”

"Healing you feels like a walk in the park compared to this."

<taruchi> of course it does  
<taruchi> haven't been maining tanks all these years for nothing  
<taruchi> it’s not that hard to make your healer’s life easier

"Yeah, right. You'd pull thirty mobs at once if you could."

<taruchi> you can take it

"Duh."

<taruchi> and i'm sturdy enough  
<taruchi> but that doesn't mean you should neglect your duties  
<taruchi> do you know what it’s like to sit at <15% hp for most of the run?  
<taruchi> my poor heart…

“You only need one HP to stay alive.”

<taruchi> you unrepentant sadist

“You can take it. Speaking of, that guy from the dream…”

Mr. Paper Tank insisted:

<Mobuhiko1> caster stop afk or kick

Itaru ran back to the party with a huff and, somehow, his irritation turned into courage. “Ah, fuck it, I’ll just talk. They’re pissing me off.”

There was a small gasp from the other side. “Whoa. All this time trying to make you speak whole sentences and a pair of randoms took it from me.”

He’d hoped Neo would spare him the wisecracks and just roll with it, but no dice. He felt self conscious again. “Any more comments on the subject and I’m muting myself,” he warned as he dropped another explosion on the giant lizards.

“Yeah, yeah, okay, I get it. Anyway, I’m impressed they can talk so big when they’re the ones dragging us down.”

“Tends to happen. How bad are we talking, exactly?”

“Godawful. Hold on.”

<NEO> funny that he still does more damage than the two of you combined  
<NEO> taru 1387.5 | neo 1143.0 | mob2 536.8 | mob1 251.9  
<NEO> so how does it feel to suck hard enough to get carried by someone whos half afk  
<Mobuhiko1> wow reported  
<NEO> just telling it like it is  
<Mobuhiko2> report and kick  
<taruchi> really now  
<taruchi> have fun waiting for a new healer at 3 am :)  
<Mobuhiko1> stfu noob  
<taruchi> “noob” of all things, is that your worst? you guys are precious  
<NEO> yknow

At that point, Neo disappeared from the dungeon. Itaru heard him groaning and couldn’t help bursting into laughter as he followed him outside.

“Come on, at least let me finish the damn sentence before kicking me, geez.”

“No more cool one-liners for Neo tonight, such a great loss for all of humanity.”

“Bah, fuck off. You think I’ll get sent to the thinking corner for that?”

“Totally. Send me a postcard when you get there.”

“Heh. At least we got out of that snoozefest.”

Itaru chuckled at Neo’s jaded voice. “That’s something.”

“Wanna try another run before I get to enjoy my ban? Can’t get worse than this one.”

“Sure. Wait, I’ll switch to tank. Faster queue.”

He smiled as he watched Neo run in circles around him. He’d done it, finally, and the world was giving no signs of falling apart. What was there to fear? It had been so easy, after all. All he needed to do was let go. It was so easy and it felt so good, using his voice and not his fingertips, just being himself and talking about nothing to a friend, like he’d always wanted yet never allowed himself to do. He could definitely get used to that.

Neo poked his character. “Ready?”

“Yeah, let’s go. By the way, were you saying something earlier? Before we got interrupted.”

“Oh, nah.”

“Hmmm.”

“…That guy in your dream, what was he really like?”

“You mean Lemon? Well, he was…” He took some time to choose his words, unsure about how much he wanted to tell Neo. “Let’s say that, if I told him about the dream, he’d be like, oh, so my plan worked, you got my S.O.S.” He chuckled at the idea. “He’d always tell us far-fetched stories about his country… honestly, they sounded like a pile of bull, but he was so adamant that you couldn’t help but think, what if…”

“So you believe there might have been some occult shit going on that night?”

If only. He forced a laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous, dreams are just that. Dreams.”

“Anyway, tell me about your past raiding adventures or something. Queue’s taking a while.”

 

→→→

 

<NEO> it went as well as expected  
<NEO> didnt think id get banned for a full week tho  
<taruchi> is this the first strike?  
<NEO> yea  
<taruchi> oh, that’s disappointing  
<taruchi> i thought you were supposed to be a bad boy and all  
<taruchi> and now you’re telling me you have no criminal record?  
<NEO> please  
<taruchi> alright, as an act of solidarity, i’ll skip my dailies this week  
<NEO> lmao youre just using me as an excuse to slack off  
<taruchi> :D

Sloth did play a big part in it, but he simply didn’t see a reason to repeat the same tiresome dungeons by himself every day when he could be playing something else with Neo. It wasn’t like they didn’t have hundreds of options.

… What happened to preferring to play solo?

 

→→→

 

“Wait, wait, wait. Tell me, Neo, why the hell are you skipping the cutscenes?”

“I don’t have time for that shit.”

He sighed. Neo and his speedrun policy.

“You know there’s people writing and animating those, don’t you? They work on them for hours, pouring their soul on them, and you’re just gonna skip it all without a second thought? Kids nowadays are so ungrateful.”

As he spoke, Neo’s character loaded into the area and ran directly to the quest marker that appeared on the minimap, all while making quick work of whatever mobs dared to approach him. Did he ever take time to enjoy the view? That game had such beautiful scenery, too. What a waste.

“Geez, what’s with the guilt trip? I’m not gonna feel bad for a cutscene.”

“You should feel bad.” A dramatic pause. “I told you to play this one because I like the story.”

Neo groaned. “Okaaay, I’ll watch them just so you’ll quit whining.”

He was surprisingly easy, at times. Itaru grinned.

“Good boy.”

“Ugh, go choke on a dick.”

“I bet yours wouldn’t be enough for the job.”

“Say that again and I’m sending you a picture with a ruler for scale.”

“Oh my, waiting warmly ♥”

“Ew, man, ew! There was like, a flying heart there, wasn’t there? I _heard_ it. Dammit Taruchi, you’re so disgusting sometimes.”

As he laughed his ass off at Neo’s outrage, he thought once more that yes, that was heaps better than limiting himself to typing. Teasing Neo was so much more rewarding when he reacted to spoken words, immediately, genuinely. Forget getting used to it, he believed he might even become addicted. Maybe one day he would end up regretting it, but he could allow himself to enjoy the moment, couldn’t he?

“Hey.”

“No, Neo, I appreciate the offer but I don’t actually want your dick pics.”

“Gah, shut up…! I was just thinking that, y’know, you seem to be okay with voice chat now.”

Itaru nodded to no one. He felt honestly grateful for Neo’s insistence. “I suppose so.”

“Then, you know what I’m going to ask you to do next, right?”

“I’m not streaming with voice.”

“No, not that!” Neo laughed. “Frankly, if you let everyone hear you just like that, after all the time it took me to make you speak, I’d feel kinda cheated.”

“Haha, I’m flattered now. Let’s keep it as a Neo exclusive feature,” he said, his cheeks slightly warmer than usual. “So what will it be?”

“Let’s meet up.”

He took a moment to let it sink in.

“Good one. Now, really, what did you want?”

“I want to meet up.”

“Ugh.” Itaru massaged his temples. “What will it take for you to drop the subject?”

“It’s not happening, Taruchi. You know that.”

His hands moved to his forehead, then his cheeks. He groaned. “To be honest,” he rubbed his cheeks some more, “I thought you’d ask me on Triangle Tuesday.”

“Heh. That happened on a Wednesday.”

“Stop cramping my style.”

“Anyway, you didn’t seem to be much into the idea back then.”

“I’m still not.”

“And it would’ve been too predictable, so…”

“So you waited for me to let my guard down for the 1HKO chance? Not working.”

“I knew you were gonna say no. Just take it as a declaration of intent.”

“And your next line will be, ‘blah blah I always get what I want’.”

He heard an impertinent laugh from the other side. “Have I ever been wrong?”

“…You know, sometimes I really want to punch you.”

“Then I need to be within arm’s reach.”

“Yeah, okay, a single punch won’t cut it,” he said, smiling despite himself. “So, how long do you reckon it’ll take you to get your way this time?”

The response came immediately, without a hint of hesitation. “A week.”

Itaru decided he’d allow himself to give in after two.

 

→→→

 

“Get on loser, we’re going shopping.”

Neo jumped on the back of the rusty vespa. “Nice ride, Taruchi.”

“You know what they say about looking at the gift horse in the mouth.”

They rode towards the western side of the map. It was an interesting sight, two dudes with big ass shiny rifles on a tiny crappy bike. Itaru’s lavender kigurumi was possibly the least stealthy gear one could be wearing, but that worked in their favor: why scour the area for players to shoot when they ran their way of their own accord? They could easily guess where they would attack from. People were so unoriginal nowadays.

Neo shot some poor sod running by. “And that’s three.”

“Leave some for me, come on.” He saw a rock a bit to the left of their path and steered the bike towards it. “Wanna fly?”

Neo snickererd. “I don’t have a choice, do I.”

“Not really,” he replied in a singsong voice. The vespa collided with the rock, and they were sent flying a few hundred meters into the air. “Woohoo!”

“You’re having way too much fun with this. Aah… we’re dead, aren’t we?”

“Of course not. Believe!”

They landed without a scratch and watched as their bike rode itself away, laughing long and hard enough to make their cheeks hurt. Buggy games were great. With their ride having escaped, they crossed woods and fields on foot, looking for a vantage point they’d be satisfied with, until they settled on a hill overlooking a small residential area. Itaru let his rabbit ears poke out of the small recess, ready to lure the curious in. He moved around a bit to make them bounce.

“Finally, a good use for jiggle phys—whoa!” There a few shots, but none landed. “We’ve got one taker.”

“At two o’clock, behind that fence.”

He threw a grenade that way, and his kill count went up seconds later. “Got ‘em.”

“Nice one, Venus flytrap.”

“What Venus flytrap? I’m a cute fluffy bunny.”

“You’re a wha—ugh! Then you say _my_ lines are cheesy.”

He sprang to Neo’s side, ears bouncing nonstop. “Come on, look at it. Isn’t it cute? Pet it.”

“No!” He ran away, and Itaru chased him.

“I know you want to pet it. Come on, Neo.”

“Get away from me, you big clown! I swear I’m gonna log out right now.”

“Alright, I’ll behave. Pyon.”

“’Kay, bye.”

“No, no, wait! Wait, Neo,” he insisted, shaking with laughter. “I’ll take it off. See? No more bunny suit.”

“Your birthday suit doesn’t make things better.”

“Tch.” He looked inside his inventory. “Ah crap, I didn’t pick up anything else.”

Neo, laughing just as hard, dropped a sensible looking survival vest next to him. “Why do I even team up with you…?”

Itaru lowered his voice as he picked it up. “I often wonder about that, too.”

“By the way…”

“Yes?”

“That guy from your guild, the one in the dream.”

“Ah, Lemony. What about him?” Why bring him up again now?

“So he was your healer, wasn’t he.”

“Yeah, and he was godlike, even with his sucky ping. Oh, hey, naked guy on that rooftop.” He sniped the naked guy.

“I’ll be even better soon. Just wait for the ban to be lifted.”

He snorted. “I like your confidence, can I buy some off you?”

“I mean, it’s obvious you’ll be comparing me to that guy, so I might as well come out on top.”

Itaru fell silent.

“What, did I hit a sore spot there?”

He did his best to recover in time. “No, just marveling at the bullshit that came out of your mouth right now. You aren’t even healer material.”

“I’ll be what I damn please.”

Neo was right about that. He cut the argument short, half hoping he would move onto another subject, but he had proved to be an expert at choosing topics Itaru would rather avoid and doggedly insisting on them, prodding him until he gave in. He had no reason to think it would be any different that time. However, he could try to change things up himself by taking a shortcut to the heart of the matter.

“You don’t have to be Lemon 2.0, you know.”

“Yeah, I know that, but do you?”

“I—”

At that moment, a few splotches of red appeared on his screen. Killed by headshot.

“WHAT?! Are you fucking kidding me, where did that… I just can’t… mother _fucker_!!”

Neo’s laughter was the last thing he heard before hurling his new headset on the keyboard. He got up, kicked the chair and stalked out of the room, all while yelling a few more obscenities. He wanted to break things, even cry, maybe, and he perfectly knew that the headshot was the trigger but not the cause.

He nosedived into the couch and buried his face in one of the cushions, screaming, punching. It always came down to the same, that stupid idea of replacement, the fear that his heart wasn’t big enough to care about both. He was so sick of it, of his moodiness, of that whole damn shitshow. Of course he couldn’t blame Neo for it. Of course Neo’s words wouldn’t sting if he wasn’t such a damn mess.

 

He wasn’t sure how much time he spent lying prone on the couch. At some point he’d run out of energy to kick and scream any more. Shyly, he peeked at the corner of the living room, at Sacchi’s glass cabinet.

“Sorry you had to see this.”

It took a great deal of effort to get up, but he managed. He’d kept Neo waiting long enough. He listlessly walked to the nearest sink to wash his face before returning to his room, then he put his headset and his cool demeanor back on.

“I’m back.”

“Done with your tantrum, huh. Welcome back.”

He responded with a grunt.

“I chased that guy and shot him, by the way. Well, it doesn’t matter much, the match has been over for a while.”

“Hm.” He stayed silent for another minute as they signed up for the next game. “Thanks for avenging me,” he finally said.

“You’re welcome. That wasn’t a slow reaction or anything.”

“Yeah, sorry.”

“There’s something that doesn’t add up, though. About that friend of yours.”

“Can we drop the subject, please?”

“No. If you were as close as you say, you’d have his LIME or something. You have a way of contacting him, don’t you.”

Once again, he thought of the unused email address, and about all the times he gave vague answers or flat out lied to his guildmates whenever they had asked him the same question. He didn’t want to share it with them, and Neo didn’t need to know, either.

“…No.”

“Oh, so you do.”

“I said—”

“Taruchi, you took ten full seconds to say no.”

He wasn’t surprised Neo had seen through his lie, that had been a pitiful attempt. He had nothing else to add. Well, no, he did have one thing to say.

“And this is why I hate voice chat.”

“So I guess you’re the one who didn’t keep in contact. You’d resent him otherwise.”

Itaru exhaled into the microphone and minimized the game window, as if that would help him get away from Neo’s prodding.

“Look, whatever, it’s not my business…”

He snapped. “You seem quite invested in it, for something that’s not your business.”

“…But you’ll get nowhere if you keep sitting on the fence forever. Either let it go or write already.”

“Yes, I know that. I know that, dammit, it’s been like this for years. It’s not that easy. Oh wait, I forgot everything in life is easy mode for you.”

Neo snorted. “Everything but dealing with you sometimes.” That made Itaru's heart sink. “Right, match is starting, in case you alt tabbed again.”

“You should know what you’re exposing yourself to by now,” he said, halfway between miffed and meek, as he made the aerial view of the map appear back on his screen.

“Yeah, perfectly. Anyway, sometimes hearing it out loud is more effective, so how about you put on your big boy pants and write to that guy already? Nothing to lose, is there.”

He sighed. “Can’t you just be a friendly ear instead of the voice of my conscience? It’s irritating.”

“Nah, I’m having too much fun bothering you.”

“As expected from Neo, a being whose sole purpose of existence is to make my life harder.”

“Just do it. Or I’ll sit you down and not let you off until I make sure it’s done.”

“There we go, another reason to avoid meeting offline.”

“You know it’s bound to happen.”

“Hey, don’t drag me into your determinist fantasies.”

“Too late to get out now.” Neo jumped off the aircraft. “See you downstairs.”

He followed him with a quiet chuckle and, for a few seconds, he simply watched the hills, streams and buildings grow bigger and closer during the free fall. Taking action or crashing on the ground… that concept felt awfully familiar. It would be nice if he could open a parachute by pressing a key in real life, too.

The magical tissue paper planes came to his mind. Skydiving, linked arms, friendship. Actually…

“You know, at times I feel like… like I’m your pet project or something. Do you enjoy trying to put my life in order?”

“Yep. You’re so fucked up it’s quite the challenge.”

He had to laugh at that. “Wow, you’re awful. In that case, I’ll have to keep being a pain in the ass.”

“Who’s the awful one here?!”

Itaru was determined to be an awful pain in the ass for the next few matches. He could throw grenades at Neo’s general direction, or try to run over him with a car. What else…? The possibilities were endless. He’d try his hand at creative trolling, all for the sake of challenge. That was what his real-life parachute was asking for, and that was what he’d get.


	8. Countdown to impact

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So how's the event going? I hope you're all getting enough sleep! We're almost there!  
> This chapter was supposed to be the first half of the next one, but it managed to grow into its own entity. That means the next part is already half written, so hopefully it won't take an eternity for it to be out, just half an eternity :D

“Oh, we managed to shave off six more seconds.”

“ _Only_ six?” Neo groaned in his headphones. “I thought I’d done pretty well this time.”

“No, you did.” He checked the numbers again. “The summoner was shit, though. Would’ve been way faster otherwise.”

“Bah.” Once outside, Neo occupied himself trying to land on top of Carmilla jumping from a nearby tree. His long robes kept glitching through the branches. “Why don’t you kidnap your old raid mates or something?”

“That would require actually talking to them, so no thanks.”

He heard Neo sigh. “Whatever. Another.”

 

As they breezed through the dungeon, Itaru recalled Neo’s words from a few days earlier. _I’ll be even better soon_ , he’d said. Back then, he hadn’t thought much of them, they were nothing but overconfident babble from a cocky brat. Nevertheless, Neo had this pesky habit of backing up his words with action. He was still ways away from reaching, not to mention surpassing, the skill level of his old pocket healer; however, it was clear he was perfectly capable of getting there one day. He almost felt proud. There was just one small detail…

“Neo, I apologize for taking time out of your busy schedule, but I’m about to die.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m watching. Just chill and lemme do my thing.”

…and that was the constant butt-clenching. Lemon also got a kick out of giving him the occasional fright, but at least he didn’t do it systematically like Neo.

“Seriously, I’m below 10%, can you please do something?!”

“I know, geez! I told you I got your back!”

Next he knew, his health bar was half full, and he sighed in both relief and exasperation. “I thought I was toast.”

“I’m not letting you die on me.” Contrary to his words, he switched to spamming damage spells again. “I mean, I could run this blindfolded. I even know which CDs you’re using on which pull.”

“Well, it’s the fifth time we run this today. Fifth in a row.”

“Eh, already?”

“So if you hadn’t figured it all out by now, I’d have given up on you.”

“Then why yell at me?”

“Because it’s scary, that’s why! I’m too old to be living on the edge like this.”

“Sure, grandpa. You’ll get used to it.”

“Don’t call me that!”

“Then you don’t get to use age as an excuse.”

At least, from that point on, Neo gave him a bit more breathing room. Just a tiny bit, but enough to make his mood improve considerably. Turns out he had an ulterior motive, as he learnt soon after.

“Taruchiii.”

“Yeah?”

“So how about that meetup.”

He responded with a groan. That was like, what, the tenth time he’d asked that week? “I should’ve known.”

“Well, yeah. I’m not letting you drop below 20%, so now you gotta do something for me, too.”

“I didn’t hear anything about a service fee. Also, don’t put those two things on the same level.”

“They’re on the same level, the stuff-we-don’t-wanna-do level.”

“The scope is completely different, you asshole!”

Neo snickered. “What’s so scary about seeing me, anyway?”

“Everything.” He nervously ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, everything, pretty much. How do you even go about it? I haven’t the foggiest.”

“How…? Dunno, like normal.”

“I doubt this is news to you, but I don’t exactly make a habit of meeting online acquaintances.”

“Didn’t you go visit that other guy already?”

“That was in a dream, Neo.”

“Good enough to get used to the idea.”

“It was different.” Ah. Maybe he’d taken too many mobs, his health was going down too fast. That didn’t look good.

“Different how?”

“How do you think? We’d known each other for years. It felt…” Yeah, definitely too many mobs. Either that, or Neo wasn’t doing his job. “Comfy?”

“Comfy?!” Neo interrupted one of his healing spells, letting Itaru’s HP finally reach zero. His character fell flat on the floor. “Ah fuck.” Neo tried to revive him but, unsurprisingly, the mobs went for him next, and murdered him before he managed to fix the mess.

<johndoe> gj healer :^)  
<NEO> try outdpsing me before you get lippy you piece of shit

“Hey, calm down. I don’t want you getting permabanned.” He watched Neo run towards the murderous mobs first thing after respawning. “And don’t forget the buffs.”

He heard a few muttered curses as Neo walked back to the party and reapplied buffs, as he was told. Then he ran off again, and didn’t say a peep for the rest of the dungeon. Itaru assumed that he was mad at him for pointing out what he should and shouldn’t do, or bitter about having killed everyone due to negligence. Either or. He supposed Neo wasn’t too used to failure. That may not have been the reaction he’d expected from him, but Itaru himself, a grown-ass man, threw the occasional tantrum while playing video games. He didn’t have the right to expect any better from a teenager.

Once the final boss was out of the way, he felt he should try and smooth things over. Ah, such a bother.

“What’s up, never made your party wipe before?”

He heard nothing but a tiny huff. Maybe rubbing salt on the wound wasn’t the best approach.

“Hey, it happens to the best of us, it’s no big deal.”

Silence.

“And don’t listen to that guy, I bet they couldn’t do half of what you did.”

Still nothing. He was starting to feel stupid.

“Neo…”

“Do I really make you that uncomfortable?”

Oh. OH. So that was it. He burst out laughing. “Of course you make me uncomfortable, you never stop harassing me to do stuff I’d rather avoid. You’re perfectly aware of that.”

“Yeah, but—”

“I know what I said earlier. That was just the first word that came to mind, no need to read too much into it.”

Neo huffed again.

“Come on, don’t be such a wimp, it’s disgusting. Being a wimp is my job.”

“It’s like I…” Was that a sniffle he’d just heard? “Like I’ll never be good enough to earn your trust. Doesn’t even matter what I do, you’re always…”

“No, listen, that’s not it!” That was very much not what he’d expected to deal with when waking up that morning and, to be frank, he was panicking. Nevertheless, he knew it was not the time to play it cool and dodge the problem. As much as he loathed the idea, it was time to be honest. “I’m just very bad at this, okay? I’m trying to get better. No one’s saying you’re not good enough.”

“Oh really.”

“Really. It’s the contrary, actually. I owe you a lot, and I mean it. I just… need time.”

“You’ve had time.”

“Some more time.”

“How much?”

“I don’t know, I…”

“That’s not an answer!”

Neo’s trembling voice made that thing squeezing his heart grow even tighter. Maybe he’d been getting too comfortable in his habit of constantly turning him down, never considering the rejections would pile up and become the monster now rearing its ugly head. He felt like a real dick.

“Look,” Neo continued, “if I keep asking it’s because I really want to see you, dammit! Just to go to the arcade and grab some coffee and,” his voice broke, “dunno, have fun together, why is it so hard?!”

He brought his legs up on the chair, making it creak under the extra weight, and hugged his knees. He was shaking. Why was the room so goddamn cold? He could use a warm drink, and his blanket, and some words for Neo, too.

Damn, he really was such a dick.

“…I’d like that, too.”

“’Kay, I’ll count this as getting the green light.”

“…” He narrowed his eyes at Neo’s perfectly cool, relaxed voice. The sudden contrast was too uncanny. “Hold on. Did you just… did I just get tricked here?”

Neo cackled from the other side.

“Why you…!” The louder Neo laughed, the hotter his cheeks felt. “You fucker, I totally bought it! I thought you were having a real crisis!”

“Bahahaha, you should’ve heard yourself, man… should’ve recorded this, holy shit!”

“Yes, I’m sure a recording of Leaderboard Terror Neo sniveling around would classify as a national treasure.”

“Can’t even compare to Pay-to-win Champion Taruchi trying to be sweet and stuff.”

No one was looking, but Itaru hid his burning face either way. “Just… just spare me, please.”

Neo wheezed. “Aah, this was amazing.”

“No it was not,” he insisted, wondering why the hell he was smiling. He should be angry but, somehow, after opening up, he felt like a weight had been lifted off his chest.

“Sooo, we meeting up or what?”

“Ask me next century.”

 

(After Neo insisted a few more times, he promised to meet him offline _someday_.)

 

→→→

 

<taruchi> i still don’t know what possessed me to say yes  
<taruchi> there’s no way this will go well  
<NEO> why  
<taruchi> it just can’t  
<taruchi> there are so many ways it can and will go wrong it’s not even funny  
<NEO> for fucks sake were just hanging out for a few hours  
<taruchi> and that’s exactly why  
<NEO> siiiiiiighhhhh…………………  
<taruchi> besides  
<taruchi> what’s gonna happen afterwards?  
<NEO> what  
<taruchi> i mean  
<taruchi> once we meet face to face we won’t be able to call each other a stranger anymore  
<NEO> well duh  
<NEO> so what  
<NEO> not gonna expose you or anything  
<taruchi> i know that, that’s not it  
<NEO> then what  
<taruchi> opening up to faceless strangers is easier  
<taruchi> they don’t know you and you don’t know them, so who cares if you leave a bad impression  
<taruchi> but once you get to know someone enough, you start caring too much about what they’ll think  
<taruchi> and then you start holding back  
<NEO> lol  
<NEO> ive seen enough of your uncool side already tho  
<NEO> no point in hiding it anymore  
<taruchi> hah  
<taruchi> there’s always more where it came from  
<NEO> anyway i get your point  
<NEO> listen tho  
<NEO> you can find as many strangers as you like out there  
<NEO> but there are only so many you click with and wanna meet  
<taruchi> hmmm  
<NEO> so why not just go for it  
<NEO> and like i said  
<NEO> my opinion of you hit rock bottom long ago :)  
<taruchi> hahaha  
<taruchi> somehow this is really reassuring  
<NEO> aw geez whats with the lukewarm reaction  
<taruchi> looks like you’re gonna have to work harder on your disses  
<NEO> yeah yeah whatever  
<NEO> so you doing anything this weekend  
<taruchi> why?  
<NEO> why do you think

 

→→→

 

He shouldn’t have agreed to it.

He shouldn’t have agreed to meeting up the next day, he shouldn’t have agreed to meeting up at all. Ever.

Saying that he was nervous was the mother of all understatements. He’d freeze up, for sure. He’d freeze up and stammer and make a fool of himself in every possible way. As hardheaded as Neo was, he was also fickle, and there was no guarantee he wouldn’t cut him off once he realized how much of a bore he was in person. That is, if he showed up at all. He’d heard enough horror stories about all those who were stood up and humiliated by their online partners, he could very well be joining their ranks soon. Neo often complained about lack of stimulation, maybe boredom had warped his mind enough to drive him to play a practical joke on him, one spanning various months. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d tricked him, that was for sure. If there was anything a certain visual novel had taught him, it was that having hope was a necessary condition to fall into despair, and Neo had done a rather good job of giving him hope. There had to be a catch. It could all go to shit before it even started.

Or, well, he could try placing some trust in him. The results up to that point had been good enough. But still…

While he was trying to make some rice pass through the tight lump that had formed in his throat, Chikage dropped a couple sauce-soaked cutlet pieces on his bowl.

“What’s that for?” His voice came out way too small.

“They overdid it with the sugar.”

“This sauce is supposed to be sweet, Senpai.”

“There’s a difference between sweet and diabetes inducing.”

“Yeah, but your threshold’s way too low.”

He bit on the cutlet, enjoying the crunchy breading and thick, sweet sauce. Exchanging those few words, interrupting his thoughts, had done him a lot of good. He returned the favor by picking up some greens from his lunch and giving them to Chikage, who stared at them with a raised eyebrow.

“And these?”

“Ever heard of the principle of equivalent exchange?”

“I think you just failed alchemy for life.”

Still, Chikage ate his unwanted greens, once he’d showered them with hot sauce. Itaru watched with a tiny amused smile. They went back to eating in silence afterwards and, for a while, he felt fine. However, his mind would undoubtedly gravitate towards that damn issue. It didn’t take long for the lump in his throat to be back with a vengeance, making it progressively harder to swallow his food. He looked at Chikage, silently pleading for a distraction, a mood change of some sort.

“You’re not playing dressup today?” Chikage spoke up, pointing at Itaru’s neglected phone.

“Mm.” He laboriously swallowed. “They’re doing event reruns. Anniversary and all that.”

“Huuuh.” As usual, he didn’t look too interested.

“You should try running them, get some easy gems. I can put together some outfits for you.”

Chikage handed his phone over without much hassle. He suspected his senior could sense something was wrong and, for once, decided to be nice and give him something to do, help him keep his mind off things. He probably wouldn’t use the outfits at all. Either way, he was happy Chikage hadn’t deleted the game yet, at least.

“So, what’s eating you?”

He didn’t look up from the screen. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Must have been some leftover Halloween decorations.”

“Please.”

He glanced at Chikage, who was looking at him dead in the eye. He averted his gaze again. He was somewhat tempted to confide in him, put his fears into words, and… yeah, probably get mocked. Then again, maybe he deserved to be mocked.

“How are you planning to get it out of me?”

“I was thinking of respecting your privacy this time, at least on paper,” Chikage replied, resting his chin on his hand. “It looks serious enough.”

“On paper, huh.” He gave a wry laugh.

“Yeah. I need to know how worried I should actually be.”

“Oh, not very.” He flashed him one of those bright smiles he reserved for important clients, but it soon faded under Chikage’s sharp stare. He bit his lip. “…I’m about to do something really stupid.”

“Even more stupid than wasting half your salary on pictures of fictional girls?”

He frowned. “You just don’t get it. Also, it’s my money.”

With his (admittedly predictable) reaction, Chikage looked somewhat relieved. “So you won’t deny the ‘half your salary’ part.”

“It’s…” He considered it for a moment. “Not half of it.”

“Forty percent, then. Either way, whatever you do, wipe this spooked look off your face. You’re gonna get caught in no time if you don’t.”

“Get caught?” He laughed. “Senpai, I’m meeting with a friend, not robbing a bank.”

Oh. Crap. Maybe he shouldn’t have specified.

“A friend, you say. Got desperate enough to start using hookup sites?”

“No! Why would I cheat on Sacchi?”

“You keep telling yourself that.”

“I’m offended that you ever considered the possibility.”

“Look, Chigasaki, I don’t really care. Just make sure you don’t put anything they give you in your mouth unless you’re sure it hasn’t been tampered with.”

“Uh huh.”

“That’s a surefire way to wake up shackled to a chair in someone’s basement.”

He smirked. “That’s a curious way of showing how much you don’t care.”

Chikage rolled his eyes.

 

→

 

“This guy’s gonna die, isn’t he?”

Oh, yes, he was. A few chapters later. “What makes you think so?”

“It’s written all over his face. Like, he’ll nobly sacrifice his life for the MC, drop some memorable line as he coughs up some transparent blood, and then die in someone’s arms. Guy’s like a walking death flag.”

Neo wasn’t too far off the mark, but there was no way he’d spoil the story. After all, he had been the one to recommend him that game back when he got banned, and the one nagging him to watch the cutscenes.

“Don’t write the poor guy off so early.”

“Either way, I’m not giving him any good gear, just in case.”

Itaru chuckled, wrapping himself up tighter in the blanket. “You don’t have any good gear to begin with.”

“Hey, I don’t exactly have money to spare.”

“Because you won’t bother with side quests.”

“Tch.”

_My apartment’s too cold_ , he’d said earlier, _my fingers are freezing on the keyboard_ , and had insisted on Neo streaming something for him that evening. The part about freezing was only half true, but Neo had acceded to his demands anyway. He’d still called him a wimp, but only once.

He was proud to have discovered yet another advantage of voice chat, too: he could keep his hands under the warm blanket, no need to let them venture outside for any reason other than taking his hot mug with an even hotter drink.

He was almost comfortable enough to forget how anxious he was.

 

“Taruchiiiii.”

Neo’s voice called him back from his silent trip to panic town. “Eh, what?”

“You’ve been quiet for a while. Thought you fell asleep.”

“Haha, I wish. I doubt I’ll get much sleep tonight.”

“Nervous about tomorrow?”

“No, not at all, I swear. I’m peachy,” he answered. Neo just laughed. He probably didn’t understand the gravity of the situation.

“Relax, man, it’s gonna be fun. I’m always right, aren’t I?”

“Well, there was that one time you insisted on gathering a full stack of emerald snails when the recipe required azure ones, or when—”

“That…! We don’t talk about that one! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I tried.”

“Not hard enough,” Neo whined.

“Just accept your failures instead of blaming me.”

“I wasn’t!”

Itaru responded with a light chuckle, and then stayed silent for a while, watching Neo’s single player RPG adventures. However, as had been happening with every lull in their conversation, he soon started panicking again. He tried breaking the silence himself.

“Um, tomorrow…”

“Yeah?”

He hadn’t planned that far, so he said the first thing that came to mind. “How will we recognize each other?”

“Aah, there shouldn’t be too many people around. We have our phones, too.”

“That’s true.” Dammit, he couldn’t think of anything else to add. What a terrible topic to choose.

“Wanna go old school? Like, describing the clothes we’re planning to wear, or putting a specific flower on the lapel, that kinda stuff.” Neo’s voice was so cheerful he could practically see his smile. He was having a lot of fun with it, wasn’t he. It was almost unfair, almost contagious.

“Haha. I might even do the flower thing if I had the energy for it.”

“Yeah, can’t really see you getting out of bed extra early to go fetch some flower.”

“You bet. Hmm.” He hesitated to continue, remembering what happened the last time he’d touched that topic with a friend. He couldn’t help but associate it with disappearance. Neo didn’t seem to be going anywhere, though: maybe that was a chance to break the curse. Also, he was plainly curious. “What do you think I look like?”

“Oh, we’re doing this? Sounds fun.”

He laughed. “Just shoot!”

“Lessee. Kinda short and chubby. Dark hair. Baby faced. Yeah, a harmless herbivore look.”

“You got them all wrong,” he said, a bit miffed. Herbivore, really?

Neo snorted. “What about this, then? Light wavy hair, dead eyes, tall and slender. Like, twig slender, and just as easy to snap in half.”

The accuracy spooked him a bit. “…When did you hack my webcam?”

“Wow, you actually own one of those?” he asked with a snicker.

“No, I don’t.”

“No surprises here. Okay, your turn now. How do you picture me?”

“I have no idea, actually.” It wasn’t that he wasn’t curious, but… No, actually, he wasn’t. Or he hadn’t been until faced with the idea that, well, that Neo would have a face of some sort. Until then, Neo had been someone who existed exclusively as part of his gaming experience and, even then, he would have no problem letting things stay that way. “I just imagine you to look like your character.”

“Which one?”

“Any and every.”

“Well, that’s disappointing.”

“Story of my life.”

“Want me to send a pic? I don’t mind.”

For a moment, he thought of that picture of Neo’s broken hand, of all those street brawls he’d tell him about. Now they were supposed to meet face to face, he suddenly saw those in a different light.

“No, don’t do that. Better if you don’t.”

“Why?”

“Depending on what I see, I might not want to come after all.”

Neo burst out laughing. “Rude, Taruchi, rude! I look pretty good, just so you know.”

“Congratulations on your ego.”

“You insecure about your own looks, then? Is that why you don’t wanna see me?”

“No, and I don’t really care how handsome you are, honestly.” Itaru felt like they’d had that conversation before, likely more than once. Things always went the same way when Neo prodded him.

“What’s the problem, then?”

“Er, well.” How to word it? “Let’s say I don’t expect you to look like a model student. What with all the fighting you do.”

“Haah?!” Neo sounded outraged, and with reason. “I don’t look like a thug, and I know how to dress.”

“Hmm.”

“Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?”

His worries were the real embarrassing thing there, but voicing them was better than letting Neo get the wrong impression. “It’s not about being seen with you. I just happen to be a wuss and I’m apprehensive about meeting someone who could hypothetically beat me up. There, happy now?”

“Why the hell would I?”

“Well, you were the one talking about snapping me in half.”

At least, judging by his laughter, Neo took it in good humor. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, that was a figure of speech!”

“I know, but had we been classmates, I bet you’d have stolen my lunch money or shoved my head in a toilet at some point.”

“Ughhh, well…”

“Haha, did I guess right?”

“I’ve done some things… _some_ things I’m not proud of, okay?! But those are just what ifs, I’m not gonna do that shit.”

“I just mean we’re different, essentially.” That was right. Other than video games, what the hell else did they have in common? After removing screens, keyboards, controllers, what would be left for them to do?

“Also, the toilet part was nasty. Who the hell even does that?”

“The same people who beat others up.”

“Like I said, it’s not happening! Goddammit, you’re even worse than I thought.”

He let out a bitter laugh. “I told you, didn’t I? There’s always more where it came from.”

Neo responded with a loud, deliberate groan. “Do you really need to worry about every single little thing?”

“Yes, I do. What of it?”

“Then keep worrying if you want, but I’m really looking forward to tomorrow.”

That line launched a massive butterfly attack in his stomach. It was out of nervousness, yes, but he could tell there was something positive mixed in, almost like anticipation. “You keep saying tomorrow, but it’s Saturday already.”

“Oh shit, that’s right. Sleep time?”

“You’re assuming I’ll manage to fall asleep at all.”

Neo laughed. “Wanna stay up together, then?”

“Hell no. I’ll be enough of a zombie as is, I’d rather not add extra exhaustion to the mix.”

“Yeah, fair enough.” Neo stopped the stream, and he flinched at the sudden dark screen. He didn’t want to move onto the next step, he’d rather stay on that chair all weekend, watching Neo play. It was safer. “Oi, Taruchi.”

“Yes?”

“Don’t chicken out.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I said I’d be at a certain place at a certain time and I’ll keep my word, but I make no promises about staying there.”

“Heh. Of course you’d try to find a loophole.”

“Survival instinct,” he muttered.

“Gotta make sure I don’t oversleep, then. You’re not running away on me.”

 

→

 

As expected, once he was in bed, he started building a catalogue of all the things that could potentially go wrong.

Neo might not show up at all, text him an hour later mocking him for waiting, then block and blacklist him everywhere.

He might show up, rethink his actions, and head back home.

He might show up, glance his way, and head back home.

He might greet him, watch him fail at small talk for a few minutes, and then remember some urgent business.

He might hang around for a while, realize they had nothing in common, let their uncomfortable silences grow longer and more frequent.

Out of all these, the last option was the most likely, and that made it the scariest. The stiffness of their offline meeting would have an effect on their online interactions from there on, and all he’d be able to do was watch in horror as they slowly drifted apart. It was too early to stress test their friendship. He couldn’t bear to experience yet another failure.

It wasn’t all lost, yet, though. He had a few hours to come up with a few strategies to avoid a calamity. Ultimately, it was a puzzle game. Yeah, can’t compare programs to people and so on and so forth, but he’d managed to get his coworkers and clients wrapped around his little finger, hadn’t he? Okay, with some notable exceptions.

That was right. As a last resort, he could always summon his charmer salaryman persona. However, he’d rather not; he wanted to be himself around Neo, the same way he’d learnt to do online. Besides, Neo was not a middle aged executive, he wouldn’t care for empty compliments and pleasantries, or him asking how his wife was doing, or receiving carefully wrapped local delicacies. Still, if worst came to worst, a fake business smile might be better than a granite block.

…Ah, bringing a gift might not be a bad idea, though. How common was it to exchange gifts when first meeting online friends? What would be appropriate? No, better to scrap that, Neo would just laugh in his face if he showed up with a box of high grade confections.

Okay, he needed a hint. He needed someone to tell him how to adjust the difficulty level.

He turned around again, kicking his blanket away. He was both hot and cold at the same time, slightly sweaty, and his headache was worsening regardless of which side he tried to rest on.

He felt so lost.

 

Minutes, hours passed, and his mind still refused to comply with the demands of his exhausted body. He pawed for his phone and squinted at the glaring lock screen: 4:36. Barely realizing what he was doing, he opened his conversation with Neo. He was offline, he’d been for hours. He wrote anyway.

_i’m fucking terrified|_

Wow, uncool much. He deleted the line as soon as he was done typing and let his arm drop on the mattress, phone in hand. For a while, he stayed still, staring at the dark ceiling. Then his phone buzzed.

_someones car alarm went off and it wont stop fuck this shitttttttttttttt_

_AHAHAHAHA  
welcome to the waking world, please enjoy your stay _

_im not enjoying my stay  
guess you cant sleep either_

_nope :D  
my head hurts like hell_

_saaaame_  
_this fuckin noise_  
_i swear if it doesnt stop in a minute im grabbing a baseball bat and taking care of it myself_

_and so the young delinquent’s violent urges resurfaced once again._

_oh screw you man you know i was just joking_

_i know, i know, dw  
got any ear plugs?_

_not putting those on  
dont wanna sleep through the alarm clock_

_aw, that’s cute :D_

_stfu  
told you im not letting you off_

They kept going back and forth, even after Neo announced the noise had finally stopped. With every line they exchanged, he was able to overwrite a little bit of his anxiety with excitement. Maybe finally seeing each other wouldn’t be so bad. Only maybe.

As minutes passed, Neo’s replies were becoming slower, sparser, full of typos. At one point, he didn’t reply at all. With a warm smile, Itaru typed a _good night_ and made one last attempt at falling asleep himself.

Unsurprisingly, it didn’t happen.

Once Neo was out of the picture, the anxiety he’d managed to suppress was back in its full glory, and now he had to deal with that plus an equally huge amount of excitement. If only those two would cancel each other out and give him some peace.

He twisted and turned, unable to release any tension. The person he was meeting in a few hours wasn’t a monster, and he knew that, even if he kept losing sight of the fact those days. Hell, that someone had just been texting him at five in the fucking morning, you don’t do that with someone you’re planning to ditch, do you? It would be alright, it had to be alright.

However, ultimately, the idea that prevailed over the rest was _I’m not ready for this_.

When he finally heard his alarm clock, he cursed his whole existence.


	9. Open world

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was a time I thought chapter 6 was long.  
> There was a time I thought I'd cram 8+9 into a single chapter.  
> There was a time I thought I'd finish this story in <40k words.  
> I was young and foolish. Now I'm less young, but just as foolish.

The park was quiet enough.

In one corner, there was a red haired boy excitedly teaching a few skateboard tricks to some equally excited grade schoolers. Those kids would surely go back to their homes with scraped knees, and likely get scolded. An elderly couple walked by; Itaru overheard them talk about someone who might or might not be coming home for New Years. A bit too early for that, he thought. Not too far away, sitting on a bench spreading his legs like he owned the damn place, there was a fashion disaster toying with his phone. Purple, plaid and leopard print. If only he was rocking a perm for the full combo. Sadly, his hair looked silky smooth, ready to film a shampoo commercial. But the hair wouldn’t save him from being a walking fashion disaster.

The cold, moist air chilled him to the bone. Why did he have the genius idea of waiting by the fountain? Ah, right, it was the only spot the sun rays would hit, and he needed all the warmth he could get. His jacket was too thin for that weather, but he’d only just noticed. The weather was the least of his worries when he’d left his apartment.

His phone buzzed.

_you there already?_

For a moment, he froze. His whole morning had been an unsightly display of getting cold feet over and over, and talking himself back into keeping his promise of showing up, at the very least. Brush teeth, panic, persuade. Get dressed, panic, persuade. Pick up keys, panic, persuade. Rinse and repeat.

However, once he’d made it to the park before 11 a.m. as agreed, nothing stopped him from typing something about his grandma falling down the stairs and being hospitalized (sorry, grandma!), then rushing back home and cowering under the sheets until it was late enough to justify being back online. Or he could make a throwaway alt.

 _just arrived_ , he typed, and as he pressed the send button, all the hairs on his body stood on end.

He heard the sound of crunching leaves, of gravel being pushed around by indolent steps. It came from the direction of the living fashion disaster, but he was too busy freaking out to look up and make sure. Oh dear. Oh lord. Was it too late to run the hell away? His legs might have been no match for a pair of dream-dwelling leopards, but there was only leopard print, in this case. He knew his odds of outrunning a reasonably athletic teenager were nearly nonexistent; however, maybe adrenaline would work a miracle. Should he? Really, should he? Time was running out.

“Taruchi?”

A lazy, irritating voice, one he knew too well.

He froze again, eyes locked on the phone in his hands, the screen still displaying his last exchange with Neo. After a few seconds, he managed to regain enough mobility to turn around, just a little bit, enough to face his nightmare.

His long, thin nose and upturned eyes gave him a fox-like appearance, and his wide grin didn’t help. Okay, he was a somewhat attractive fox, but a fox nonetheless. Wearing leopard print. So that was Neo, flesh and blood Neo. Wow. Unreal.

…Wow.

Using all his might, he replied with a broken, barely audible “yes”, and next thing he knew, Neo had pulled him into a quick hug.

“Hey, man!”

Hugging. Neo hugging him. Contact. His body tensed up in rejection. It wasn’t out of disgust, it was just that that sort of friendly touching was simply too foreign to him, he wasn’t programmed to properly react. Even if he were, he wouldn’t have the resources: his brain was overloaded, still processing the idea that Neo was someone real… or rather, tangible. Those two seconds with Neo’s arms around him felt like a whole century, and yet they didn’t last long enough for Itaru to get his bearings and respond in some way.

“So it was you, huh.” Neo’s grin was so wide and bright it made him flinch. However, at least, he could think of a way to respond to that.

“Did you expect one of them to be Taruchi?” he asked, cocking his head towards the strolling elderly couple.

Neo chuckled. “No, that’s not it. Hold on.” He produced a folded envelope from inside his wallet and handed it to him. That familiar weight… “Here, this is yours.”

He peeked inside. A few notes, a few coins, as expected. He gave Neo a questioning look.

“You told me to go get something with it, so I did. Bought some snacks at the convenience store. And this is the change,” he added, pointing at it.

“What…?” He looked inside again, counting the money this time. 9,645 yen.

“Yeah, don’t you remember? There were some Ouka punks harassing you, I fended them off. That was a few months ago.”

The hell? Why would he willingly give ten thousand yen to a kid—OH. Yes, he remembered now. The pack of hyenas circling him; the chivalrous yankii manga protagonist coming to the rescue. No wonder his voice (and cheesy lines) sounded so familiar. Mouth agape, he pointed at Neo.

“Delinquent F!”

“Heh. So that’s how you saw me.”

“Why, was I wrong?”

Delinquent F/Neo shrugged. “Anyway, I thought I might see you again around the area, so I kept it on me.”

“For real.”

“When I finally got to hear you, I thought, hey, I know this voice, and I was pretty sure where from, too… Well, I had the theory from before. Kind of a long shot, but it all added up, sort of.” He grinned even wider, if possible. “Turns out it was you after all.”

Itaru didn’t listen too closely, he was still stuck on Neo’s previous line. “So you’re telling me all this time you’ve been carrying around an envelope with exactly 9,645 yen, just in case?”

“Well, what would you do if a stranger suddenly gave you a Yukichi?”

“Me? I’d buy 680 gems and roll away.”

Neo burst out laughing. “You would.”

He pondered it for a bit, and finally held out the envelope for Neo. “Keep it. Think of it as a reward for your honesty or somesuch.”

“Nah, I don’t need your money. Just treat yourself to those 680 gems.”

“Haha. I’ll take you up on that offer, then.” He finally pocketed the money, and bit his lip. “So, now that you’ve completed your delivery quest, will you let me go home?” he asked, a bit sheepish.

“As if. You really thought I’d let you off the hook that easily?”

“Hey, I had to give it a try.” He shrugged in defeat.

“I worked my ass off to drag you out here, you’re not running away.”

Right, Neo had been making it clear for days.

That moment was when it finally hit home: that was Neo in front of him, talking to him. Neo, the one who had repeatedly seen him at his lowest. Wasn’t it a bit stupid to worry about appearances at that point, when they had survived far worse than an awkward first meeting? Hell, as it turned out, that wasn’t even their real first meeting. Unwittingly, he let out a small laugh, feeling somewhat relieved.

Neo cocked his head, amused. “What now?”

“Neo complaining about difficulty, what a time to be alive.”

“Heh, it’s always a good sign when the casual dissing starts.”

He nodded, a sincere smile on his lips. The first he’d ever shown to Neo. “I’m impressed you remembered my face, though.”

“I’m good at it.”

“I couldn’t remember yours.”

“Duh. You didn’t look at me once.” Ah, he might be right. What a low blow. “Busy raking up points for your Sacchi, I guess.”

“Oh, right…” He remembered. That had been on the final day of the event. “Hey, wasn’t that also the first day we partied up?”

“You’re only realizing that now?”

Damn, Neo was just as saucy in real life. Too saucy. “Mind if I punch you?”

“Yeah, feel free to try.”

He made a slow, half hearted attempt, and Neo effortlessly caught his balled fist.

“Wrong.” He tapped his third knuckles.” You’re supposed to punch with these.”

“Nice, lessons on street violence from a real-life delinquent.”

“Don’t hit stuff with these unless you want them to break,” he went on, tapping his second knuckles this time.

“I do appreciate the advice, but I also hope I’ll never have to use this piece of trivia.”

“Yeah, you look like you’d break your fingers no matter how you did it.”

Itaru gave up on his fists and kicked Neo in the shin instead.

“Ow! Who’s the real delinquent here?!”

“Still you.”

Neo looked as if he was about to retaliate, but a rush of cold wind (and Itaru’s chattering teeth) muffled his words. As he hugged his sides, looking for some extra warmth, Neo offered him a scarf. He somehow expected any and every article of clothing coming from the depths of Neo’s bag to include garish animal print, but it happened to be a simple knit scarf in charcoal gray. He shyly took it from Neo’s hands.

“…Thanks.”

When he wrapped it around his neck, the first thing he noticed was how nice it smelled. Might have been the fabric softener, or maybe Eau de Something, how should he know. The point is that it was a smell way too gentle for that fashion disaster of a hooligan. Those types were supposed to abuse cheap colognes and dizzying deodorants. Aah, it smelled so nice.

“You didn’t bring anything at all? It’s cold as a witch’s tit today.”

“Mnn.” Itaru buried his nose deeper into the scarf. “Wasn’t really thinking.” He steadied his footing. The cold and anxiety had been keeping him awake, and now that he’d managed to relax slightly, he was starting to feel woozy.

“Anyway, let’s go get some grub, I’m starving.”

“Same.” While he wondered if Neo had also skipped breakfast, he saw a familiar sign peeking out from down a nearby street. That was what he needed, the comfort of familiarity to make up for the heap of overwhelming new experiences. He instinctively pointed at it. “How about some MacD—”

“Hell no, I don’t wanna stink of frying oil the whole day!”

“Bummer.”

“Friend of mine told me about a nice place, let’s go there instead.” Neo started walking the other way, and he begrudgingly followed his lead, pouting.

“And why do you get to decide where we’re eating?”

“’Cause I actually bothered to look for a place that doesn’t suck and serves something you might like?”

Something he might like? Crap. Suddenly he was excited.

“Wow, so you actually made plans and all. What is this, a date? Are we on a date?”

“A, are you high?! The hell do you mean by that?” he squawked, slightly picking up the pace.

Ah, that was really bad. Teasing Neo offline was even better than doing it online. He kept trailing slightly behind, hoping he wouldn’t turn around and notice that big dumb smile on his face.

 

→

 

Neo had taken him to a classic American style diner, complete with neon signs and a coin-operated jukebox. He was almost surprised the staff wasn’t rollerskating around the floor. Isn’t that what they did in American diners?

They were sat down on a cushioned booth, their long legs constantly bumping under the table, and Neo wasn’t even trying to make give him space, the bastard. However, to be completely honest, he didn’t mind too much: he was too busy admiring the magnificently huge burger on his plate to pay any attention to his surroundings. That thing must be as thick as his hand was tall. Now he understood why Neo had insisted on taking him there, despite the fact his ugly clothes would end up smelling like frying oil anyway.

“Do you think I can bite through the whole thing?”

“No way in hell.”

That sounded like a challenge. “Hey, you don’t know if you don’t try, do you.”

Neo rested his chin on his palm. “Go for it, then. Gonna be fun to watch you fail.”

Okay, now he absolutely had to do it. He was fired up. He locked his gaze onto Neo, and then onto the hamburger, filled with determination.

“No shame in backing down from an impossible challenge, you know,” he kept prodding. “You’ve got a knife and a fork. Use them.”                                                                     

“I bet you also eat pizza with a knife and a fork, you savage. Where’s your adventurous spirit?” He then realized Neo was pilfering his hash browns. “Hey, put that back!”

“It’s fine, I’ll give you some of my salad,” he replied, then he started munching on the stolen goods.

“Your salad? Please. What makes you think I want any of that? Who in their right mind would even order a salad?”

“…Oh damn, these are pretty good.” He stole another. “You should learn to share, Taruchi.”

He shot Neo one last sour look, but ultimately left the hash browns at his mercy, deciding to turn his attention back to the giant hamburger instead. Gripping it with both hands, he brought it to his mouth, and contemplated how to make the whole length fit in one bite.

“You’re actually going for it?” That brat wasn’t even trying to hide his snickering.

“You bet I am.”

“Aight, don’t come crying to me when you dislocate your jaw then.”

He chomped down on the top bun and made a commendable attempt to cut through a few layers. However, before he could snap his jaw shut, the whole structure started to fall apart, and the bacon and one of the patties almost escaped from the other side. Well, he could proudly say he’d tried. And that was it. He hid behind the burger for a few seconds, not feeling in a rush to see the smug grin Neo would surely be sporting.

“Told ya.”

 

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying himself at all. Overall, it felt pretty nice. Despite his worries, it was going smoothly, for the most part. Was that what Neo meant by “like normal”? It wasn’t too different from voice chat, but it came with an extra advantage: being able to see how Neo’s eyebrows creased, how wide his grin could get, how he’d squint and look away whenever something bothered him, all that stuff Itaru had only subconsciously imagined.

Conversely, he still hated that Neo had full access to each of his facial expressions, to whatever he was doing with his hands at that moment. It made him feel naked. He hated being aware of that, he felt like he had too many hands and nowhere to put them, he felt like grabbing a paper bag to hide his face. To make matters worse, whenever he peeked his way, he’d find Neo staring back at him, constantly wearing that same amused smirk. Then, Itaru would look away on instinct, concentrate on his food or his in-game stamina meters, and stay quiet until either of them got tired of the silence.

At the very least, Neo didn’t seem bored just yet. Maybe he was just a pro at hiding it but, somehow, he doubted it. It was comforting to know he hadn’t fucked up enough to make him leave, and yet, at the same time, he wouldn’t mind being left alone. Coherence, what is coherence? Does it taste good?

“Ah, Chigasaki-san!”

…Huh?

He looked up to see a face that was only slightly familiar: one of the company’s new recruits? What was her name again, Shimada…? Shimamura…? How should he remember, they weren’t even in the same section, they hadn’t exchanged words more than once, if at all. Why would she remember his name, to begin with?

“What a coincidence!” He hoped a perfect smile would cover up the fact he barely had an idea who she was. “Enjoying the weekend, too?”

“Yes! A friend of mine was saying this place had good reviews, so we were checking it out today. I never expected to bump into you here.” Yeah, and neither did he.

With a curious expression, Shima[blank]-san turned to Neo, who was nibbling on another of his precious hash browns… Wait. That was the last one, the little shit…! He’d get him later for that. Anyway, he needed to come up with an introduction, and quick. Anything other than ‘this side dish thief here is Neo, my online buddy’.

“Um, this is my cousin, he’s visiting from the countryside. I was showing him around the city today.”

“I see!” She slightly bowed at Neo. Bowing at Neo of all people. Ha! “My name is Mishima, I work with Chigasaki-san.”

Name acquired! He could almost see the mission results screen popping up, including Saving Face x1 as an extra reward for timely completion. He mentally noted the name down, in case it would save him from embarrassment at some point in the future. He hoped it wouldn’t be the case.

After some more polite chitchat, she left, flanked by a pair of teasing friends, and he finally got to breathe. Why attack him on a Saturday? Why did he have to switch into work mode during the weekend? That should be against the rules. And why the hell was that little shit Neo laughing? It wasn’t funny, it was a pain in the ass.

“Your cousin from the boonies, really?”

“I’m not accepting any complaints, it was an emergency.”

“Have you _looked_ at me, though? I don’t look like a hick,” he insisted, pointing at his ridiculously patterned clothes. “I’ve got a great eye for fashion.”

Itaru faked a cough to hide a snigger. _This guy…_

“Precisely. If you were a real country bumpkin, wouldn’t you try to cover it up by wearing,” not laughing was taking a lot of effort, really, “the hottest urban trends?” Shit, that was hard. He was about to lose it, and Neo didn’t look too convinced. He could probably tell he’d just called Neo a tryhard hick, or someone who dressed as such. In the most roundabout way he could manage.

“Bah, what do you know about trends.”

He couldn’t resist anymore. “Not much, but I know that plaid doesn’t go well with animal print. That’s a timeless, immutable fact.”

“Wrong. I’m making it work, aren’t I?”

He covered his mouth, faking another cough. Had Neo ever heard of the concept of self-awareness? Better to give up for now. “Of course.”

“Leaving that aside…” Oh, Neo changing the subject himself. Convenient. “What was with that delightful office worker act? Dude, there’s being two faced and then there’s you.”

He responded with a weary laugh.

“You almost gave me the creeps back there, _Chigasaki-san_.”

Had he? Time to have some fun with it, then. “Chigasaki Itaru, sales department at *** Company. Pleased to make your acquaintance, sir.” He wrapped it up with a polite bow and a killer smile.

Neo smirked and extended his hand for a shake, playing along. “Settsu Banri. Nice to meet you.”

That Settsu Banri had a strong, firm handshake, the sort that augured a bright future in a multinational company, if he could be arsed to go for it. He needed to take the act up a notch. Were his business cards still there…? Yes, good. Still in his breast pocket. He picked one and placed it on the table, pushing it towards his companion with both hands.

“Here’s my card. I would love to hear more from you to further discuss our business…”

“Oh, yeah, business. We’re totally gonna do business here.”

He pawed the card with a smile that could almost be described as hungry. It was then that Itaru realized the implications of handing it to him, and immediately regretted it. A lot. He pressed down harder.

“You letting go or what?”

“Nope.”

He kept his fingers firmly pressing down on the piece of paper, pulling it his way. Neo—or Banri, rather?—wasn’t giving up, either. Somehow, the situation reminded him of children fighting over the control of the coin during a game of Kokkuri-san.

“Oh come on.”

“Like hell I’m letting you have all my personal details.”

“You could afford to trust me a bit, you know.”

“No way.”

“Tch.”

At one point, Banri got tired of their ongoing tug-o-war and let go of the card. Itaru suddenly felt like crap. Hesitantly, he nudged it his way.

“Alright, just take it. What’s the worst you can do, besides exposing me to the whole internet?”

“Exactly what I intend to do,” he replied, pocketing the business card with yet another smirk. “So, dessert? I saw the way you were eyeing those shakes earlier.”

“Haha, yeah… I think I’m gonna need the extra calories.” He spent a full minute with his eyes fixed on the menu, reading the same line over and over without processing it. He believed it was something about caramel. “You know… Before hearing your name, I didn’t even consider that you… I mean… I never had to think of you as someone who, well, has a normal name and all…”

Banri raised both his eyebrows, then burst out laughing.

“…Yeah, I realized how idiotic that sounded as soon as it left my mouth.”

 

→

 

The screen displayed their nth double full combo of the day. Ah, dammit, Neo’s—Banri’s score was slightly higher that time. He clicked his tongue.

“Hey, you’re not doing too bad for not having stepped inside an arcade for years.”

“Somehow, this magnanimous victor attitude pisses me off even more than your usual asshole self.” He kept quiet about the hundreds of hours he’d spent drumming away on the home version. Banri didn’t need to know.

“It was just a compliment!”

“Yeah, a backhanded one.”

Banri snorted. “You’re such a sore loser.”

“See, that’s more like it,” he replied, cracking a small smile.

It was a strange feeling, knowing Neo was standing right next to him. It was fascinating to watch his expression change when he played, when he won, when he lost. So that was what he looked like. They’d been together for hours already, and even then, from time to time, he’d still marvel at the fact that Neo was very much real, and that he could touch him right then if he so wished. Barely realizing what he was doing, he poked him with one of his drumsticks.

“‘Sup?”

He blinked and removed the drumstick from Banri’s side. “Not much, how about…” Something tugged at his coat. “…you?”

He turned around to see a disgruntled kid, ready to speak up for his disgruntled friends.

“Hey mister, you two are done, no? Can you let us play already?”

 

He’d forgotten how loud arcades were. So noisy, so crowded. Had they gotten worse since his high school days, or had they always been that bad? His headache probably had something to do with his current perception, but it was also possible he’d been looking at them through rose-tinted glasses; he did have some good memories associated with them. They were good memories at some point in time, at least. However, at the present time, reminiscing only served to suck the color out of the scenery. He tried to shut it all out, he didn’t have time for that bullshit. After all those years, and despite everything, there he was again, having fun with a friend, and he sure as hell wasn’t allowing a ghost from the past to ruin it. _Not this time._

Banri hadn’t taken too kindly to being chased away by a little kid, and was currently taking it out on a couple of poor middle schoolers, using not very subtle means of intimidation so that they’d free their Street Slugger machine. Itaru wasn’t sure whether he should chuckle at the scene or walk up to the shameless thug and smack him upside the head. Either way, the machine was now waiting for them with open arms, so why not go for a few rounds?

“Ready to have your ass handed to you?”

He snorted. “I knew I could count on you to deliver some choice cheesy lines.”

But damn, were those buttons clunky.

He needed to smash them with all his might to get them to respond at all, and the joystick was no better. He supposed he could blame extended use. Really, though, even his own used and abused controllers were in better shape than that. Had they let some apes into the arcade, or were the users firm believers in the theory that the harder you press the buttons, the more damage you do? They’d be right, in a way: you do more damage. To the buttons themselves.

He was so engrossed in his battle against the controls that he’d forgotten about his real opponent. Far from giving him any reprieve, as if begging for attention, Banri kept bullying his vacillant fighter, finally unleashing a combo he had no choice but to take face first. Oh. Well. Well then.

“I win,” he said. As if he hadn’t noticed.

“For the first and the last time.”

“You really sucked, though. What happened?”

“Input problems.” He punched the buttons for effect, slightly wincing at the pitiful squeaking sound. “But don’t you worry, I’m planning to wipe the floor with you right now.”

Screw finesse, screw finding the sweet spot. He slammed his hand on the damn buttons as hard as he could, and his character started to move the way he wanted it to. Good. Not only he was finally able to defend himself, he even managed to turn the tide of the fight in his favor. It felt good to be the one attacking, for once—aah, dammit, he’d just let a four hit combo slip past him. He needed to step it up.

They spent the full timer fighting for momentum, their HP bars barely a hair’s breadth apart, and it felt fantastic. Once the time was over, he only realized it was his loss when his character slumped down in defeat. It had been a close one, but still, a loss was a loss. He grimaced, expecting Banri to make a smartass comment about his line, but he kept quiet, staring at the screen with a vivid, even _manic_ smile.

“Another.”

With that one word, Itaru felt an electrifying rush flow from his spine to his fingertips, and a wild smile, enough to mirror his opponent’s, spread on his face. He wanted more, too. He needed more. “They say the third time’s the charm.”

He won the third round.

“Go. Next one.”

The fourth battle was also his.

“Nn—aaah…! Another!!”

It was far from the first time they were up against each other, but the sound of frantic button mashing, the goosebumps spreading through his body, Banri’s focused look, his zealous smiles, his hitched breath, it all had a raw energy that online play could only hope to replicate. He thought he’d be able to live without it, he’d believed so up until that point; however, one taste had been enough to get him hooked, and he could only blame the young man standing next to him for that.

 

→

 

After a few dozen rounds, they agreed to call it a draw.

Banri was dragging him towards the stairs, and he, still reeling from the thrill, was whining that why weren’t they taking the elevator instead, when a UFO catcher prize caught his eye. His dear Sacchi, clad in an adorable witch dress, was waiting for him, stuck in a heavily padded cardboard box. He remembered loathing the very idea of trying to catch boxed crane game prizes, but it was a Sacchi figurine, and he wanted it, he wanted it now.

Wow, he was so out of practice with those. Years of getting all his arcade merch from auctions and second hand shops had really done him a number. At least, his grasp of the basics seemed to be in place, still.

“Just push it closer to the edge and tip it over.”

“Yes, I know, that was the plan. Thank you for your input.”

“I can get it for you,” Banri offered.

“No thanks, I’ll get it myself.”

“As you like, then.” He looked down, speaking in a muted voice that made Itaru’s alarm go off.

“I mean, I just want the satisfaction of catching her myself, you know? It’s not the same if someone else does it for you. For the record, I’m still grateful you offered…” Was that enough not to come off like an asshole? It should be, but better to make sure. “It’s not that I wouldn’t appreciate you getting something for me, I’d still keep it, of course. Er, I would take good care of it. It’s just a matter of pride, I guess.”

Banri cocked his head. “What are you getting so worked up for?”

That indifferent attitude, as infuriating as ever. Yeah, that was a good question, actually: why get his knickers in a twist for that unfeeling bastard? “I was afraid I might have hurt your feelies, you see.” He frowned at Banri’s snickering. “Can’t believe I fell for the same trick twice.”

“What trick?”

“Nevermind.”

“What do you mean by trick?”

He just wouldn’t let it go, would he. Nothing new. “You sounded quite dejected when I told you I’d get it myself.”

“Did I?”

“You did, to me.”

He shrugged. “You sure you aren’t just projecting here?”

Now that got his goat. He slammed his fist against the crane machine so hard he made it rattle, and he immediately winced, both from the pain and the embarrassment of possibly having been seen. Were any staff members around…?

“Ah—”

Banri’s eyes were fixed on the glass. He followed his gaze to see the Sacchi’s box on the edge, wobbling. Oh dear. There was no way he’d get so lucky. Did he dare to hope? He pressed his hands and nose to the window, hoping, praying for it to fall… then he felt a dry thud and, with one last totter, the box finally dived right into the chute. He pumped both fists in the air.

“YEEEESSSSS!!!” It was his… she was his!

“Here we go. Happy now?”

He picked up the cardboard box at the speed of light and rubbed it against his cheek, whispering sweet nothings to it. He couldn’t wait to get home and add it to the collection in his cabinet. Where would he put it, maybe the second shelf? The top one, for a few days? Anyway, first things first.

“Did you just kick the…” As soon as saw Banri’s smug face, he realized he preferred not to know the answer, after all. “Actually, don’t say anything.”

He had gone back to admiring his prize when, a few steps away, a frustrated little girl kicked the neighboring machine. That one was filled with a CuCa plushie series released a few months earlier. Old stuff. He had them all already.

Banri pointed at her. “Look at what you’re teaching the kids.”

“I doubt you’re in any position to say that,” he retorted.

However, now that Itaru got what he wanted, he felt like being kind to his kin, for once, and asked her what was wrong. More of a way to start a conversation, really. It was clear what the problem was just by looking at how the plushies were arranged, or rather, scattered.

She pointed at her target. “I’m trying to get her but she keeps escaping…”

“Oh, so you like Yukarin?”

“Yeah! She’s so cool!” the little scamp said, with stars in her eyes.

“Want to be cool like her when you grow up?”

She nodded enthusiastically.

“Do you wanna be a slob like her, too?”

He elbowed Banri, and quite hard. “Shush. Hopes and dreams are to be protected.”

Then, he inserted a coin into the machine and got to work. The little girl had managed to pull her out quite far, it should be an easy job. Grab the plushie by the neck, and its big head would make sure it stayed on the claw. That inconveniently placed arm might be a problem, but… Ah, there she was.

“You did it!!”

The little girl beamed, tightly hugging her new treasure. He ended up smiling, too, wondering if she loved Yukarin as much as he loved Sacchi.

“Of course I did it, who do you think I—”

“Hey,” she pointed at the glass again, “can you get me Fiona, too?”

Another?! Okay. One Fiona was peeking out from under a pile, another was wedged between Sacchi and Mona… Troublesome but doable.

In a few minutes, she was in the little shrimp’s arms, and one moment later, the girl, the two plushies and his left leg were engaging in a tight group hug. He looked at Banri, hoping for some help, but the bastard was busy laughing his ass off at his predicament. Another item in his growing list of affronts.

They were soon swarmed by kids—including the brat who’d earlier evicted them from the taiko machines—who had either watched the scene or heard of the legendary Lord of the Cranes, and wanted in on the action (read: save part of their meager allowances). Itaru had no idea how to turn them down, so he soon became their UFO catcher slave. Banri kept on watching with a smirk plastered on his face, dropping the occasional wisecrack or cackle. What a jerk.

“Why don’t you help out instead of standing around?”

“You never asked. Thought you were having fun.”

“Fun, fun…” He handed his most recent catch to a toothless boy, who lifted it up as if it were a golden trophy, singing praises to the UFO Catcher Master. Banri had a slight frown on his face. Envious of the attention, maybe?

“Heh. I’d have gotten all these on the first try.”

“Oh? How about you come demonstrate it, then?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Itaru faced the children. “Did you hear that, kids? From the second try on, he’s paying out of his pocket.”

“The hell?!”

The children cheered and started mobbing Banri, who was doing a great job of switching back and forth between a panicked look and one of absolute betrayal.

“Take that, sucker. Payback for my hash browns,” he whispered, and then he pulled back. “We’re all counting on you, Banri!”

Banri gave him the finger, and the kids cheered even louder.

 

→

 

In the end, Banri succeeded at one-shotting about 80% of the requests: another solid performance from his brother in arms. When the staff started giving them the stink eye, they knew it was time to escape, and they fled towards the next floor among protests from the kids. He welcomed the silence, relative silence, and not being pulled and pushed around. Still, he had to admit it felt good to make people smile, to be praised for doing something he enjoyed, for once.

He tugged on Banri’s sleeve. “Let’s do that. I wanna do that.”

“Purikura, really? What are you, a girl?”

“Yes! I am!” he replied in a not very convincing high pitched voice.

“Pffft. Okay, but no cosplaying.”

Girly or not, he didn’t care. He felt like making a few stupid faces at the camera, laugh at the preposterous eye makeup filter, add a few crude doodles here and there. And, why not, he wanted to keep a memento of the first—and maybe only—time they hung out offline.

Despite all the complaining, once inside the booth, Banri seemed to have lots of fun posing at a perfect forty-five degree angle while throwing smoldering looks at the camera. Acting like a cool guy again, huh. He snuck his hand behind him and gave him bunny ears.

“What the—!”

He burst out laughing, and Banri followed suit. They didn’t manage to take a single decent shot afterwards.

 

“Aaah, I had always wanted to do that.”

“Man, the pictures are gonna be a real mess.”

“And? What’s wrong with messy pictures?”

“Bah, I guess it’s fine… Oh man, what’s with this face, you look like ass!”

He joined Banri at the doodling corner and checked out the contents of the screen. Most pictures were awful, indeed. “I’d say we both do.” He kept laughing hard, both his cheeks and his abdomen hurting. Had laughing always been such a demanding exercise?

“I was doing fine ‘till you attacked me.”

“This background, let’s take this background.”

“It’s ugly as shit.”

“That’s the point.”

 

He peeked at Banri’s side of the screen. Flowers in the foreground, a rather detailed controller being drawn in his hands. The composition looked vaguely familiar.

“These are…”

“Your idea of happiness.”

Oh, yeah. What he’d clumsily drawn in that guessing game many weeks earlier. How did Banri manage to remember all that irrelevant stuff? Did it have any value to him?

He spent a while watching him draw, forgetting about the pen in his own hands.

“There we go. Your flowers, your controller, and your damn UR card.”

“And you right beside me.”

Banri looked his way, eyes as big as plates, and sputtered something. He took the opportunity to show him the most over-the-top wink he could muster.

“Holy shit, you’re so fucking nasty!” He shoved him away, a hint of a blush on his cheeks.

“Eeeh?” It was time for the high pitched voice to come back. “But I thought you lov—mmfh!” He didn’t get to finish the sentence before Banri’s hand covered his mouth.

“Just shut up, man! I don’t know you!”

He cackled through Banri’s slim fingers. He was so easy. So easy it was almost cute. To be honest, he never expected him to get flustered with so little, he didn’t seem the type, but whatever. It was entertaining, therefore good. If he were in his full faculties, he’d probably be too concerned about people watching them, he wouldn’t dare to fool around like that in public. That was the beauty of being tired and sleepy, he didn’t have any fucks left to give anymore.

“If you really gotta roleplay, why don’t you pick one of your demon lords or something? That would be slightly less awful,” he whined while effortlessly sliding a pair of scissors across the photo paper.

“Then, if you insist…”

“Ugh, spare me.” He handed him one half. Was he going to keep the other? Not going to throw it in the nearest burnable trash bin? “Here.”

“Thanks.”

Damn, he really looked like death, didn’t he. And yet, it was interesting how, despite his huge eyebags and awkward, unphotogenic smiles, that was the liveliest he’d looked in years. There was a grain of truth in what he’d told Banri earlier, it seemed he _was_ happier with him around, after all. Of course, the only way he’d ever admit it was under the guise of a joke. He gave the photo paper one last fond look before putting it away, making sure it wouldn’t wrinkle. He would keep it in his treasure drawer, next to the Sankaku-kun tissues.

Banri pointed at the floor guide. “That’s our next destination. Seventh floor.”

Karaoke. Uh oh. Suddenly he had a lot of fucks to give. He was going to need a drink, and preferably a charged one.

 

→

 

“I’m putting Sacchi’s chara song on the queue, by the way. Guess you’re planning to sing that one.”

“I’ll consider it if you move it down enough for me to get drunk,” he replied, admiring the limited edition collab coaster he’d just received with his purchase.

Speaking of, where’d his cocktail go? It was right there a moment earlier—oh. It was in Banri’s hands, and currently making its way up the straw into Banri’s mouth. That kid and his predilection for filching his stuff.

“Weren’t you eighteen?”

He smirked for the 6983457th time that day, the straw still grazing his lips. “You think that’s the first time I drink?”

“My, aren’t you such a rebel.” He made to take the glass back, but Banri lifted it out of his reach and took another quick sip.

“Hey, I’m doing this for you, you know. Can’t have you get too drunk.”

“Why you little…” He made another attempt to take it. Of course, it failed. “I don’t need your help with…” Then, he thought about all those barely intelligible texts he had no memory of sending but were still recorded on their LIME conversation as undeniable evidence. He sighed. “Nevermind. Just don’t overdo it.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Banri finally handed him the glass. He raised the plastic straw to his lips and tentatively sipped. The drink was so watered down he wasn’t even sure it would help him loosen up. There was no need to share… Share. Oh. That was the only straw in the glass, which meant both of them had… haha, oh fuck. He almost did a spit take. Some of the liquid went down the wrong pipe, sending him into a coughing fit, and of course Banri took that opportunity to pick on him.

“Can’t even handle this? Weak, man, weak.”

He gave him a dirty look as he coughed it out, his throat burning. “Shut it.”

At least, he was glad Banri believed it was the taste of alcohol that had made him choke, and not the realization they’d accidentally swapped spit. Well, on his side. The teasing would have been way worse. Only middle schoolers cared about that shit anyway.

 

→

 

“Stylish, stylish future dreaaam! Hold my hand and let’s jump into a new wooorld! You and I can make it reaaal—”

As the upbeat sugary melody and experimental harmonizing filled the room, Itaru had trouble keeping a straight face. The Cutie Catwalk opening theme was one cheesy song, wasn’t it. Humming it was one thing, but pronouncing the words had him in stitches. He got a kick out of the ridiculous lyrics himself, but he was surprised a Cool Guy™ like Banri was able to turn his brain off enough to sing those lines without flinching. Maybe he was so focused on hitting the right notes he wasn’t paying attention to what was coming out of his mouth.

It was great. He was so glad he’d forced himself to get out of bed that morning.

That didn’t mean he was any less bitter when, in the end, Banri got the higher score. That song, as awful as it was, meant a lot to him, and being beaten felt like handing over all those hours he’d spent leveling up and running events.

“You’ve got a really nice voice, you know. Sounds even better in real life.”

“Can you stop complimenting me when you win? It pisses me off to no end.”

Banri snorted. “See?  You’re awful at losing.”

He stuck his tongue out.

“Ah, it’s blue.”

He pointed at the empty glass. “Then yours must be as well. Anyway, this felt really… invigorating.” He yawned, and felt his remaining scraps of life energy escape from his mouth. “I think my batteries are about to die.”

“These two lines don’t go that well together,” Banri pointed out, laughing.

“Whatever.” He made an impromptu pillow with his coat and leaned on it, curling up on the seat. “I need a nap and I need it now. Hog the mic for a while, will you.”

He closed his eyes, ready for Morpheus to take him in his arms, but as he was about to fall asleep, he was startled by loud drums in a fast-paced intro. He groaned, announcing his displeasure, and turned around in the cushioned seats. Soon after, the loud drumming abruptly stopped in favor of a mellow rock ballad. Thank the heavens.

“Sorry, sorry. Forgot I had that one on the queue.”

That had to be lie, a filthy lie. Whatever, at least he’d skipped that hellish noise. He curled up tighter against the coat-pillow and made a second attempt to nap, wondering what would get in his way next. Then, the phone in their room went and rang. Ugh.

“Yeah…? Yeah, got it... No, thanks. We’ll be there.”

He squinted at Banri, crabbier than ever. “Already…?”

“Yeah, time’s up.”

“I don’t wanna go…” He flopped back onto the seats.

“Come on, there are better places to nap.” Banri pulled him by a limp arm and, in return, he shot him a bleary glare. Far from being intimidated, he grabbed his phone and took a quick snap, blinding him with the flash. The nerve.

Banri was clutching his stomach, convulsing with laughter. “Holy shit, this face…! You gotta see this, look!”

He laboriously opened one eye, focused his sight on the smartphone being pushed against his face, and saw something even worse than their purikura shots, more horrendous than what the mirror showed him on Monday mornings. “Delete this. Delete this right now.”

Banri kept on laughing. “Make me.”

“Nnngh.”

 

At least, they made it out of the room before someone else came to evict them. Next trial: standing in line at the register. Too long. Too many people. He needed a bed, he desperately needed a flat surface to lie on. Banri’s back looked like a flat surface. He leaned on it and closed his eyes, achieving a fleeting moment of bliss, only for the flat surface to start shifting. A finger jabbed him in the ribs, hard, merciless.

“Don’t give up.”

“Mnngh…”

“Come ooon.”

They managed to make it back to the elevator as he attempted to rest his tired body wherever he could, be it the walls or Banri’s shoulder. Anywhere worked, as long as he could lay his weight on it. During the whole trip to the ground floor, Banri made it his duty to poke and prod him and be generally annoying. He didn’t want to be kept awake, he wanted Banri to stay still, like all well-behaved mattresses should. Unfortunately for him, the prodding continued until the elevator opened its doors on near the entrance, where they were assaulted by a wave of cold air. Now that woke him up. Slightly.

“Fucking hell, it’s freezing!” Banri shuddered. “Here, put this back on.”

Itaru just groaned and let him do whatever he was doing to his shoulders. He tried keeping an eye open for more than a second, but the cold made him tear up immediately. “Is it too late to go back inside?”

A laugh. “Mornin’. Thought you were done for the day.”

“I was done before the day even started.”

“GG.”

 

On their way to the station, his mind decided to show him footage of all the embarrassing shit he’d said and done during the day. Sleepy or not, he should have been more careful. His face was out in the open. Hell, he had run into a coworker, it could happen twice. Even if sudden encounters weren’t part of the equation, nodding off on someone’s shoulder, really? What the hell, self? If Banri’s image of him had hit rock bottom long ago, maybe that day he’d succeeded at digging below the surface. So much for leaving a good first impression.

“…I was really bad, wasn’t I? All of today.”

“Nah, you were cool.”

“Yeah, cool. Cool as a cucumber.”

“You said you were new to this, no? You get a passing grade from me.”

“Yay, I passed the tutorial,” he replied, with zero enthusiasm. So he’d graduated. That meant it was all over, didn’t it…?

Banri started ruffling his hair. “Now you’re a full-fledged adventurer.”

“Hey, don’t get too cheeky.” He tried batting the hand away, but he was running so low on fuel he didn’t feel like lifting his arm above his head, and gave up mid-way. The intense ruffling continued. “My head hurts.”

That made Banri disengage, finally. “Think you can make it home? Not gonna drop dead on the way?”

“Yeah. Probably. I mean, I can make it.”

“We can go lie down somewhere if you’re not feeling too hot.”

“Are you planning to take me to _one of those_ hotels?”

“Hey, those are great for emergency naps.” He scratched his nose. “We can go to my place, it’s close by.”

No. No way. He was not setting foot there. Even a love hotel would be less intimidating. “Thanks, but I think I’ll pass. I miss my own bed.” He hoped that was enough of an excuse.

“Yeah, I get you.”

He watched Banri hide his hands in his pockets, his lips curl into a thin smile, his breath form tiny ephemeral clouds against the cold air. He wondered when, or if, he would see him again.

Meeting once should have satisfied his curiosity, there was no point in doing it twice. If Banri didn’t ask for it, he sure as hell wouldn’t suggest it himself. He didn’t have the courage. In any case, the best he could offer him was his online self, not his offline one, so it might be for the best. He set his eyes on an indeterminate point on the sidewalk.

“So…”

“Y’know, I’m still kinda surprised I actually got you to show up.”

“What happened to your bottomless well of confidence?” He chuckled. “So am I, though. Both surprised that I actually showed up, and that you did.”

“Come on, man, I told you I wouldn’t oversleep this time!”

“No, I mean it like… you could have made a conscious decision not to come.”

“So you still see me as an A-class asshole.” He looked so disappointed Itaru regretted opening his damn mouth.

“Everyone is a potential A-class asshole. S-class, even.”

Banri shrugged at him, letting out a dramatic sigh. “One day you’ll tell me what happened to make you this way.”

“I was born with it, it’s my natural charm.”

“Yeah, right. Charm.”

“Mm.” He looked down, not really knowing what else to say, and checked his phone just to have something to occupy himself with. 22:19. That late already? Hold on, wasn’t his train leaving in like three minutes? He should get going. No, it was too late to make it, he didn’t feel like running, and he had yet to properly say goodbye. Still, while hightailing without a proper farewell might be rude, he couldn’t think of much else to say, and the idea of standing next to each other in uncomfortable silence for an extra half hour was even worse, way worse. Decisions, decisions. He should have taken his car. If only he wasn’t too dead to drive. “Er, my train’s in a couple minutes, so I should…”

“Oh, shit. Leggo then.”

Banri grabbed him by the arm and darted off into the station, running up the escalator, towards the ticket gates, almost colliding with a few people. He followed his pace the best he could, but he was sure that at some points neither of his feet had been touching the floor. With the sudden dash, combined with the fatigue of the week plus a sleepless night, when they finally stopped, he was feeling rather disoriented.

“I,” he panted, “thought you were the type to take it easy.”

“I don’t mind chilling if you’re okay with staying stuck here for a while.”

No, he definitely did not want that. He reached into his bag with unsteady hands, fumbling for his IC card.

“Hey.”

“Yes?”

“Dunno about you, but I had fun.” Banri had yet another bright, blinding grin on his face. “We gotta make this a regular thing.”

“Ah, I… too…” He wanted to say that the ‘dunno about you’ part was completely unnecessary, that it had been an enjoyable day, that he hoped he hadn’t been too uncool or too boring, and that this offline meetup shit was still scary, after all, besides exhausting. But there was no time. While doing his best to convey it all with a look, he tried to swipe the card on the gate reader, but hit it at a wrong angle and dropped it on the floor. Awful. Just awful. Banri had to pick it up and hold it over the scanner on his behalf before returning it to him; meanwhile, he stayed still, contemplating his failure.

“Just get in already! Run!”

He pushed him to the other side. Still in a daze, Itaru gave him a quick, weak nod as he watched the gates close between them, then ran to the platform as fast as his legs would take him. By some miracle, he made it into his train: the doors snapped shut right behind him, snatching his coat, but at least he was inside.

 

It took him a while to catch his breath. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d sprinted like that. Might have been in PE class. Those had been some dark times.

He managed to grab a seat after a few stops. When he finally moved, he noticed that his legs felt like thin jelly. How he’d managed to stand on his feet until then, he had absolutely no idea. After sitting down, it barely took a few seconds until his eyelids started drooping.

He was about to doze off when his phone buzzed him awake.

_see you online in a bit, “chigasaki-san”_

Online…? Should he log in once he was back? He wasn’t sure he’d be able to stay awake for much, but he’d try. To make sure things hadn’t changed, to tell him everything he hadn’t managed back at the station. As he made to type a reply, a new message appeared.

_btw you ran off with my scarf_

Ah.

No wonder the hard train seats felt oddly comfortable that evening, he was leaning back on the soft woolen scarf. He vaguely remembered Banri wrapping it around him once they got out of karaoke.

Itaru felt his lips tug up at the corners. Surely he’d want it back. Securing a second meeting before the first one was even over, that had been one tenacious move. Classic Neo. He pulled the scarf over his nose, hiding a growing smile from the rest of the passengers.


	10. You can (not) hide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one crass chapter. Even worse than the usual fare. Oh well!
> 
> (It's also L O N G)

<NEO> so?  
<NEO> wasnt so hard was it  
<taruchi> yes it was  
<NEO> and i dont look that terrifying  
<taruchi> your clothes look terrifying  
<NEO> hey  
<NEO> its all hq brands  
<taruchi> hq and yet all they do is lower your stats  
<NEO> lmao screw you man  
<taruchi> well  
<taruchi> actually  
<taruchi> if i have to be honest  
<taruchi> …  
<NEO> what  
<taruchi> today was fun  
<taruchi> :)  
<NEO> this smiley face looks so creepy  
<taruchi> :(  
<taruchi> tch, i pour my heart out to you and this is what i get  
<NEO> pour you call that pour its barely a drip  
<NEO> anyway see  
<NEO> told ya it would be fun  
<taruchi> hmm  
<taruchi> i sucked, though  
<NEO> lol yea i kept beating you at everything  
<taruchi> no you did not  
<taruchi> also, you wouldn’t have beaten me once if i weren’t half asleep  
<taruchi> but that’s not what i meant, and you know it  
<NEO> geez man just stop worrying about that shit  
<NEO> i had fun  
<NEO> you had fun  
<NEO> what else do you need  
<taruchi> a slightly less embarrassing performance on my part?  
<NEO> ffffffffffffffffff  
<NEO> whatever  
<NEO> got any steam left for a few rounds of something?  
<NEO> hey  
<NEO> taruchi  
<NEO> t  
<NEO> a  
<NEO> r  
<NEO> u  
<NEO> c  
<NEO> h  
<NEO> i  
<NEO> hello???  
<NEO> guess not  
<taruchi> shit, sorry  
<taruchi> dozed off on the keyboard  
<NEO> lmao  
<NEO> gg  
<NEO> sleepy time then  
<taruchi> yeah, the bed’s been calling for a while  
<NEO> go answer the call  
<taruchi> soon  
<NEO> and once you manage to peel yourself off the sheets we got some pvp ranks to climb  
<taruchi> didn’t we make it to the top league a while ago?  
<taruchi> i’ve got a season trophy already, can’t be arsed to rank for another  
<taruchi> but i suppose i can help out with yours, if you need  
<NEO> nah season’s over lol  
<NEO> reset happened today  
<taruchi> wHAT  
<taruchi> i’d completely forgotten about that  
<taruchi> brb getting some coffee  
<taruchi> you better get ready for an all nighter, neither of us is sleeping until we make it back to platinum  
<NEO> what happened to your bed calling you  
<taruchi> i’m not going to bed as a bronze, what a disgrace  
<NEO> lmao just go sleep youre not gonna last like this  
<taruchi> i’ll sleep when i’m dead  
<NEO> id rather you didnt die tonight tho  
<taruchi> wow  
<taruchi> that’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me  
<NEO> really  
<taruchi> no, probably not  
<NEO> sigh  
<NEO> k lets play enough to get out of bronze  
<NEO> then you sleep  
<taruchi> hmmmmmm  
<taruchi> deal.  
<taruchi> but i’m working you to the bone tomorrow  
<NEO> yeah yeah

 

→→→

 

Their fated meeting hadn’t exactly shaken the foundations of the universe. His life stayed the same as ever: he continued posing as a delightful office worker during the day and letting loose online at night, making an effort to keep those two sides as far apart from each other as he could (Chikage was a gray area. “Gray area” was quite fitting for him, he thought).

As for Banri… well, as for Neo, things had simply gone back to the way they were before Neo got it in his stubborn head that they had to meet up. They would play, talk, play more, stay up till fuck o’clock, challenge each other, talk smack to each other, and barely interfere with each other’s offline lives, save for the occasional LIME exchanges. That was exactly the sort of peace he needed, wasn’t it? No one pulling him out of his comfort zone, no obligations once he was out of the office.

They had slipped back into the usual routine so effortlessly that Itaru often felt like their offline meeting had just been another dream, something that had happened in a different plane of reality. Those moments were when he’d feel that strange thing in his stomach, something that was neither a weight nor an expanding void, but definitely something in between. That was his cue to open the top drawer and take a good look at their goofy purikura sheet, or turn his attention to the piece he’d accidentally looted from Neo.

The knit scarf was neatly folded inside a paper bag, lying on a spare chair, and from time to time he still felt the need to pick it up and stick his nose inside. The scarf’s gentle scent was starting to mix with that of reused paper fibers. He kept thinking he should find a way to return it to its owner’s hands before it collected too much dust, but he wasn’t sure how he should approach the subject, or whether he wanted to. Asking to meet up was scary, asking for his home address to have it delivered there was scarier. While he fought countless futile battles in his head, days passed.

Days passed, and nothing out of the ordinary happened. That was okay with him.

And so that day was just another regular boring Friday at his boring day job. He was enjoying one of his bathroom gaming escapades when his phone buzzed in his hands, eclipsing the battle screen with a message that made him wince.

_Either you come back to your desk within 10 seconds or I start spreading rumors about you having hemorrhoids_

_senpai please  
just a few more points_

_10_  
_9_  
_8_  
_7_

_ok geez  
dont_

_6  
5_

_imc omign_

Itaru dashed out of the cubicle, switching to power walking once he was within his coworkers’ line of sight. Chikage was the first—and hopefully only—one to notice his steps, and welcomed him with a discreet sly smile, tapping an imaginary watch on his wrist.

“You’re nineteen seconds late,” he whispered.

He made a child-like pout, trying in vain to ingratiate himself to his unyielding senior. “Give me a reasonable time limit next time.”

“Twenty-five minutes is reasonable enough to relieve yourself in whatever way you deem necessary.”

“Was I gone that long…?”

“Yes, Chigasaki, you were.”

“Ah, dang. They added a bestiary feature with the new patch, lost track of time collecting tokens to unlock the—”

“Yeah, indeed you did. Now how about you grind those instead,” Chikage said, nodding towards the pile of dossiers that had materialized itself on his desk during those minutes. Why? Just why? He was pretty much done with the week’s workload; he’d been hoping to spend the afternoon on standby playing minesweeper and being generally useless. That was Not Cool.

“Are you kidding me? Where the hell did these even come from?”

“Someone screwed up a few numbers, apparently, and you’re the lucky one cleaning up after them. Instructions are inside.”

“Shittiest extra stage ever.”

Chikage chuckled and, for once, Itaru didn’t feel any malice coming from him. “I can agree with that. Coffee break in an hour?”

He smiled. “Sounds good.”

 

The grind had been unbearable, but in those few hours, the pile had thankfully diminished enough to raise his hopes of avoiding overtime, and so he felt justified in allowing himself another gaming break. He was leaving his desk, with every intention to hide in the toilets until at least 150 tokens dropped, when his phone buzzed again. He shot a peeved look at Chikage, who just shrugged.

“Wasn’t me this time.”

“Huh.”

He checked the screen. The name NEO appeared on top of the list, above countless full stamina notifications from his neglected apps. The weekend was coming, so it wouldn’t be too surprising to get a ‘got other plans, don’t wait for me online’ type of message, and that was something he definitely did not want to see. He rushed to the restroom, trying to appear as unfazed as possible, locked himself up in the same cubicle he’d been hiding earlier, and, once he was done processing the worst case scenarios, he finally read it.

_parents are out, wanna come over?_

He did a double take. It was impressive how such a simple sentence could sound so dodgy.

 _i don’t remember joining any service to meet cute single girls in my area_ , he hastily typed.

 _lmao_  
_get your mind out of the gutter man_  
_house is mine for the weekend, so come hang out_  
_its only two stations away from your workplace_

_don’t you think it’s a bit too soon to crash each other’s homes like that?_

_no_

Well, that was an answer. A rather concise one. Did youngsters nowadays make a habit of inviting virtual strangers to their homes, or was it just Banri who lived without a care in the world? Or rather, should he be the one worrying? And more importantly, why was he talking like an old man? He was still one of those youngsters, wasn’t he?

Statistically speaking, the odds of Banri trying to murder or otherwise assault him were rather low. Conversely, the odds of it turning into an awkward evening were through the roof. How was one supposed to behave at someone else’s house? What was the etiquette to observe? If he had ever learned it, he didn’t remember anymore. While he’d survived their first offline meeting a few weeks earlier, that had been on neutral ground. Playing away without knowing the rules was something else.

Playing. Of course, that was the key, it always was. He’d just think of the second meeting as a New Game + on nightmare mode. Compared to “being someone’s guest”, those words felt incredibly soothing.

_alright, if you insist, i’ll come show you how a real master handles a controller  
but i’ll bring some pepper spray just in case_

_oh come on_  
_bring some coke instead, none left in the fridge and i know youd complain  
__ping me when you get off work, ill come pick you up at the station_

He wasn’t sure what he’d just signed up for, but he was kind of looking forward to it. Kind of.

Change of plans. Screw the tokens, he had a bunch of dossiers to zoom through.

 

→

 

Friday evening rush hours were the worst. The absolute worst. The four liters of coke were digging into his fingers, there was no maneuver room to swap sides, and whoever was standing behind him was casually palming his right asscheek. He’d have gladly walloped the offender with the heavy bag, but having to deal with four liters of flat coke sounded way worse than a random stranger touching his behind.

In any case, all those headaches paled in comparison to the main dish: the pair of loud thugs sitting a mere few centimeters away from him. No, to be fair, only one of them was loud. The loud one was a tall, built young man with belligerent eyes and a shitty bleach job, who also happened to be dripping wet. He was sitting on the lap of his rather quiet companion, an even taller and more built youth whose kind eyes completely clashed with his intimidating biker gang garb.

“Holy shit, trains suck so _bad_!” Thug A griped, shaking his head and splashing water all around, making a lot of sour faces spawn around his neighbors.

Thug B wrapped an arm around him, holding him in place, and shot a few apologetic looks to the commuters. “Come on, you’re making a scene,” he chided him, using a rather motherly tone.

“Aaaa-aaaaaaah, I miss my babe already. Fishing her out is gonna cost a fortune, too.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have ridden it into the bay,” the russet youth replied. Oh. So that was why Thug A was drenched. Itaru stifled a laugh. That guy must have balls of steel to ride his bike into the ocean on a December evening. Balls of shriveled up steel.

“Then what, was I supposed to turn down the challenge?!”

“Shhh.”

“I’m the goddamn Wild Fox, not the Wimpy Chicken.” He proudly poked at his chest with his thumb.

“You could stand to hold back from time to time, especially after what—”

“Bah! What would Ryo and the guys say if they saw you acting like such a stick in the mud?” Thug B replied with a sigh, and his boisterous friend turned around. “Hey, you, the one in the suit.”

Pretty much everyone in the train car was wearing a suit of some kind, but Thug A’s sharp eyes were unmistakably fixed on Itaru. He’d probably noticed him laughing earlier. He gulped. “Uh, me…?”

“Yeah, you’re in a suit, no? Can you tell my co-leader here to stop being a pansy?”

Co-leader. That word hit him like a rock, or it would have, if rocks were the type of weapon to inflict years of memories’ worth of blunt damage on you. He almost dropped his shopping bag on his foot.

“You guys are lucky to still have each other,” he blurted out, feeling bitter. At that moment, the quieter youth turned to look at him, hazel eyes widening in what might have been fear. His hand had inadvertently flown to the scar on his left cheek.

“…Yeah.”

 

→

 

When he spotted Banri near the gates, for the nth time, he asked himself what the hell he was doing there. He had no idea what he was trying to accomplish by diving into unknown territory equipped with nothing but a pair of family-size coke bottles. However, at the same time, he felt a wave of relief. He was glad their first meeting hadn’t also been their last, and he’d been sort of missing having him around… but still. _Still_.

He walked closer. Banri stuck out like a sore thumb, what with his height and those rather… soft-looking aubergine clothes. Also, was that leopard print again? Yes it was. Carmilla on the left sleeve, Ebitarou on the right. That guy was a riot.

“Did you come get me in your pajamas?”

“It’s called lounge wear, you ass. Come this way, it’s close.”

Without any prompting needed, Banri took the heavy bag off his hands, and then he leisurely made his way up a quiet residential street aligned with perfectly trimmed shrub fences. It looked like the sort of posh neighborhood where people had big pools in their gardens and big pool tables in their lounge rooms. He felt so out of place.

“So, um.” He pursed his lips. “Why today?”

“Why not?”

“I’d have appreciated a few days’ notice. You know, to mentally prepare and so on.”

“Prepare for what? I’m the only one around.”

“How reassuring. I haven’t forgotten about your attempt to drag me to a love hotel.”

Banri burst out laughing and gave him a light kick. “As if!”

“Also…” That was quite the important detail he’d just remembered. “Your scarf’s still back home.”

“Well yeah, I don’t expect you to carry it around every day.”

“Says the guy who carried ten thousand yen around for months.”

“Bah, shut up.” He looked away, scratching his nose. “Anyway, you can use it if you like, not a big deal.”

“Haha, I might actually do it. That scarf has got to be the only salvageable item in your closet.”

“You haven’t even seen my closet!”

“I can imagine what it’s like.”

“Fuck you, man!”

“Thanks for the offer, but I will have to pass.”

Banri groaned in exasperation.

 

They walked for a while longer, watching the streetlamps shrink and stretch their shadows, sometimes shivering under the cold, humid air. When Banri abandoned the tranquil road in favor of the sidewalk, Itaru felt they were close to their destination. It could be that sleek villa they were approaching, that display of modern architecture that reeked of money and made him feel so small.

“Here we are. This is my place.” He gave a slight nod towards it.

It felt wrong to call it “Banri’s place”, it had more of a “Settsu residence” feel to it. He hadn’t even set foot inside and he was already feeling ashamed of his own apartment. At least it wasn’t a whole palace, but…

“Wow.”

Banri pushed the gate open. “Wow what?”

“It’s impressive.”

“You think?” He shrugged as he made his way across the front garden.

“I knew your family had money, but still. Wow.”

“Dunno, this is what I’ve always seen, so…” Another shrug.

“So it’s normal to you. Understandable.” He looked around the tidy garden. Not a single leaf seemed to be out of place, which made the whole scenery look eerily artificial. They hired the services a professional or a few, didn’t they? Money, so much money. “Do you have a pool, too?”

“Nope. There’s a pond, though. Wanna see?”

“I’m fine staying indoors, actually. Some other time.” Again, if there was one.

“Yeah, it’s chilly outside.”

“Especially if you’re wearing pajamas.”

He was sure Banri had missed the keyhole on the first attempt. It had been almost unnoticeable, but he was quite confident he’d seen him miss. Was he starting to get under his skin?

“I told you it’s lounge wear!”

“Pa-ja-mas.”

“Screw you!”

 

The first thing he noticed once they stepped inside was the unfamiliar smell, that someone-else’s-house smell. It wasn’t unwelcoming; on the contrary, it was quite pleasant and warm, but it was a constant reminder that he was outside of his own territory.

Banri showed him around the house, looking neither particularly enthused nor particularly displeased. He simply walked from room to room with a hand in his pocket, taking it slow, occasionally pointing to random objects to tell an anecdote involving them. He didn’t seem to be in a rush to get rid of the coke bottles he was still carrying.

Family photos here and there, a messy stack of books and magazines, cushions strewn over the couch, answering to no particular logic. On the kitchen counter, an open sack of rice and a half-full supermarket bag. Contrary to the picture perfect garden, the house looked lived in, it looked normal. _So the Settsus are people, too_ , he realized. It was such an asinine realization that he was glad he hadn’t accidentally said it out loud.

Banri’s own room was surprisingly neat: a couple fashion magazines on the floor near the TV, a half worn school uniform lying on a chair, but it was quite tidy, overall. That wasn’t what the media had made him believe teenagers’ rooms looked like. Itaru thought that maybe, maaaybe he should put some more effort into cleaning his own room, too. But guess what? He couldn’t be arsed, actually. No one else was going to set foot there anyway.

“Aha!” He spotted the built-in closet and flung it open, unable to contain a huge smile when he found the other half of the purikura sheet on the inside of the door. Thankfully no one saw that. “The lair of the beast.” He marveled at the wide selection of questionable fashion it had to offer, and kept rummaging inside for a while, just to sate his curiosity. If Banri had a problem with that, he’d voice it.

“If you’re looking for the porn mags…”

“Does anyone even buy those anymore? There’s something called the internet.” He closed the door, satisfied with his deep wardrobe exploration for the time being.

“Heh. Yeah.”

Next up was the desk. There were some university campus brochures piled up on a far corner, away from the edgy-looking gaming PC. He mindlessly picked one up and thumbed through it, but Banri snapped it out of his fingers and shoved it into a drawer, the rest of the brochures following it shortly. If he had ever managed to start relaxing, that single move made sure to thrust him back into alert mode.

“Okay, I get the hint. Anything else I shouldn’t be touching?”

“Ah, no, I…” Banri looked troubled, somewhat confused, as if he’d only just noticed what he had done. “Just…” He vaguely waved his arms around. “Make yourself at home. Er, be right back.”

Hard to make himself at home, after witnessing that. As if he wasn’t already feeling like he was walking on eggshells.

The darker, callous part of his heart was gloating over that display of vulnerability, the uglier side of Banri’s supposed easy mode life. He wanted to tease him for it, make him lose his cool, force him to show something even more embarrassing. Contradictorily, he also wanted to offer him some comfort, to remind him that feeling lost was the standard thing among his peers, that any decision might as well be temporary, that not everyone had to have a dream career. _Hell_ , he’d say, _I’m going into my mid-20s and still have no fucking idea what I want to be when I grow up_. He knew better than to actually say all that out loud, though. He was there to supposedly have a good time, not to lecture Banri on what he should or shouldn’t worry about.

He gingerly sat on the edge of the bed. Damn, that sight just wouldn’t leave his mind. He felt compelled to do something. If he opened his big mouth, all he would do was worsen the situation, he knew that. But it didn’t matter how much he tried to rationalize it, the restlessness wouldn’t go away. He lifted his head to the ceiling, turned it to the walls, looking for a momentary distraction among the bookshelves or the tiny screen on the air conditioner, hoping Banri would be back before his thoughts ate him alive. And once he was back, he’d do his best to sweep them under the rug.

 

“Whew, these took a while to find.”

Banri dropped a mildly heavy, mildly dusty cardboard box on the bed, and he lifted one of the flaps, eager to check the contents.

“Masks?”

“Pick one.”

There were a bunch of them. Demons, animals, popular kiddie manga characters. Most of them looked like the sort of cheap trinket you’d find at festival stands, some others might have been high quality ornaments.

“Is this some kind of new kink I haven’t heard about?”

He laughed. “Just pick one!”

Itaru’s eyes were immediately drawn to the hannya mask peeking out from between Anpan Kid and a cartoony tiger. Before he knew it, his arm had disappeared into the pile to pick it up.

“Kinda looks like the one in your in-game house, doesn’t it.”

“Mm.” His lips drew a tiny fond smile. “It’s ugly, huh?”

“Horrendous.”

He put it on and, through the eye holes, he watched Banri take bright red tengu mask. Once he had it on, he freed a few strands of hair from the rubber band.

“Aren’t there any fox masks in the box?”

“Yeah, I guess. Why?”

“I think one would suit you better,” he replied with a snicker.

The tengu tilted his head. “Why do I feel like you’re just ragging on me again…?”

“Probably because I am.” He lifted his arms to block Banri’s playful slap. “So, now that we’re set, are you telling me the point of these?”

“Ah, right. We’re streaming.”

_We’re—_

“Um, I think I forgot my cat in the washing machine.”

He made to leave, but Banri grabbed him by the back of his shirt. “Too bad, it’s dead by now.”

“But _why_?” he whined.

“Haven’t streamed at all lately, all I do is play with you.”

“So you’re telling me I should take responsibility.”

“Yup.”

He still tried to pull towards the door, struggling to free himself from Banri’s grip. “I don’t wanna. I’ve told you many times I don’t want others hearing me.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Why do you think I got a voice changer?”

“Wait, you got a…”

“Yup. Set it up as soon as you agreed to come.”

Itaru hid the hannya mask in his palms. “What sort of trap did I walk into?”

 

Still, seeing how far Banri was willing to go just to get him to appear on screen, he didn’t have the heart to refuse. The mask and the voice filter didn’t completely eliminate his anxiety, but he supposed they did the job as a (fragile, flimsy) safety net.

That pushy bastard even offered him spare clothes so he didn’t need to show the world his perfectly ironed white shirt, effectively exposing himself as a boring corporate slave. He agreed to put them on once he’d made sure they were free of tacky animal print. On the other hand…

“Are you really gonna stream in your pajamas?”

“Who cares.”

“Aha, so you admit that’s what they are.”

The tengu groaned and, with a click, they were on air. He wasn’t ready for it, he definitely wasn’t, and the rapidly increasing viewer count didn’t help.

 “Yo, Neo here. Been a while since the last stream, huh. Sooo as you can see, I brought a special guest today…”

He tried sliding off to the side on his chair, out of the camera’s gaze, slowly, cautiously… Sadly, Banri noticed and pulled him back into place. For good measure, he also coiled his right leg around Itaru’s left one, in case he was tempted to run off again.

“…Say hi, Taruchi.”

Well, there went his hopes to escape. He weakly waved to his miniature reflection on the screen.

“Um, hello, I’m Taruchiii…” Ew. His attempt to sound casual had been an utter failure. Also, he had no idea what else to say, so he chose not to say anything else. He concentrated on the chat instead, where the viewers’ comments were starting to pour in.

> oooooooooo  
>  !!!!!!!  
>  first  
>  IT’S HAPPENING  
>  face reveal time?!  
>  wktk  
>  it’s been a while!  
>  whos that  
>  the fuckin masks wwwww  
>  Stop writing shit like first ffs no one cares  
>  neo-shi, taruchi-shi, do your best! good vibes incoming!!  (っ・ω・）っ≡≡≡≡≡≡☆  
>  a rare live appearance from the real taruchi???!!!!  
>  take the masks off, you cowards  
>  hello  
>  Whats with the chipmunk voices lol  
>  neo……. you know what they say about men with big noses

He snorted at that last one.

> wait how do we know this is the real taruchi  
>  hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm  
>  it could be anyone lol  
>  fake?  
>  neo trolling us wwww

Oh wow. Having to prove his identity to a bunch of faceless randoms really irked him. However, he would at least try to take advantage of the opportunity they were handing him on a silver platter.

“Ah, you caught me, I’m just your average street bum. He’s paying me to pose as Taruchi to get more views.”

“I what?!”

“Don’t forget to hit the subscribe button, he desperately needs the validation.”

> IT IS HIM  
>  wow its the real one  
>  taruchi ultimate skill: rapidfire shittalk GO  
>  oh burnnn  
>  hello taruchi ヾ(＾∇＾)  
>  Sounds like the real one to me w  
>  validation wwwwwwwwwww  
>  classic taruchi

Behind the mask, he smiled, a faint blush appearing on his cheeks. Maybe he was the one getting validated there. Maybe he could try to place some more trust both in his friend and his disguise, and let go, just be himself. Or even put on a show. It seemed to be working well enough.

“Geez, man, we haven’t even started and you’re already taking pot shots at me.”

“We’re supposed to be bitter rivals, aren’t we? Doesn’t hurt to rag on each other on screen from time to time. Let’s call it fanservice.” And it might get out of hand at times, but Banri was smart enough to see he didn’t mean it.

“Fanservice? You don’t have any fans to begin with.”

Damn, the kid was quick to get to work. Excellent. “Don’t be like that, Neo. Envy is a very ugly thing, Neo. You should learn to share the spotlight, Neo.”

The tengu faced the camera, laughing. “Yeah, I’m just gonna ignore this guy, okay? So the other day I was asking for recs to stream, and a whole lotta you told me to play this, uh, Chicken Simulator thing? What in the name of fuck is that?”

“Wow, can you believe this loser? He’s never heard of the legendary Chicken Simulator, and he calls himself a gamer.”

“Who’s a loser?!”

“You’re a loser, B—Neo.”

“’Kay, then. Since you’re an expert on the matter, how about you show us your skills.” Banri picked up the keyboard and unceremoniously dropped it on his lap.

“No way, you do it.”

“Why not? Aren’t you supposed to be a street bum I just employed? Your pay is on the line here.”

“How dare you use my words against me, how very dare you!”

> critical hit!!  
>  you guys are so cute  
>  just get on with it already ww  
>  you tell him, neo  
>  chicken simulator 🐔🐔🐔

“Still,” Itaru continued, “I’d rather you played. It’ll be a more fun first experience than watching someone else do it for you.”

“Fair enough.” He accepted the keyboard back. “So what is this supposed to be? Some kinda farm simulation game?”

“It’s just as the name implies. You’re a chicken running across the map doing chicken things.”

He snorted. “And people actually pay to play this shit?”

“Well, you did, no?”

“Oh please!”

“You won’t regret it, though. I promise.”

And so their chicken adventures began.

 

Unsurprisingly, Banri got the hang of it pretty fast. As he crashed into unsuspecting cars or magically set stuff on fire, he’d mutter stuff like “can’t believe they’re putting all this effort into a meme game” or “holy shit, what’s wrong with the physics engine”. Meanwhile, Itaru was having fun prompting him, together with the audience, to wreak havoc in every way the game had to offer. His stomach was starting to ache from the continuous laughter.

“Oh yeah, peck those farmers, Neo. Peck those farmers good.”

He groaned. “How do you make it sound so lewd?”

“I wonder why, all I’ve been doing for the past hour is watch you play with your co—”

“AaaaAAH! Don’t say it!!”

Flustered? Good. Time for some ribbing. “You won’t let me say it, and yet you’re sporting this… big, red marvel…” He caressed the underside of the tengu’s nose with a finger.

“Wh… hey… that’s…” As Banri failed in his quest to pronounce a full sentence, the chicken on the screen got run over by three cars in a row, and then got back up as if nothing had happened.

“Might’ve been a bad time to try crossing the road.”

“Might’ve been a bad time to…” He paused, watching Itaru slowly coil his hand around the nose. “To… do whatever you’re trying to do.”

“Hmm?” He ran his thumb across the tip, and Banri yelped. So easy to rile up. So damn easy.

Banri cleared his throat, having seemingly regained his bearings. “Oi Taruchi, I know I look stunning right now, but…” Ah, no, his voice was slightly, almost imperceptibly shaky. Adorable. “You sure this should be happening in public? Shouldn’t you hold back a bit?”

“Of course, we need to keep this stream PG-13.” He withdrew with a stifled laugh, and Banri let out a sigh of relief.

“Thank fuck.”

> so are you guys fucking or  
>  (⊙＿⊙)  
>  and this is why taruneo is superior to neotaru  
>  ^ shit taste  
>  ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTING  
>  who the hell called the fujo brigade  
>  __              __       _____        _____          _____      _______  
>  \ \           / /      /   __   \    |  __    \      / ____ |   |__     __|  
>   \ \   /\   / /      |   |    |  |    | |__)   |     | (___            |  |    
>  that was kinda hot  
>     \ \/  \/ /        |   |   |  |     |  _    /       \\____  \       |  |    
>      \   /\  /          |  |__|  |     |  | \  \        _____) |       |  |    
>       \ /  \/           \\_____/      |_|   \\_\      |_____/        |_|    
>  wow gay  
>  I want to be that mask…  
>  fujoshi go away wwwww  
>  What the fuck am I watching  
>  more pls

Ah, damn, that was fun. He couldn’t believe he’d been missing out for so long. Showing their antics to the audience, adding the viewer’s comments to their comfy back-and-forth, it all made for a way better experience than he’d imagined, and mirthful laughter wouldn’t stop spilling from his lips.

> taruchi’s cute laugh gave me a boner (;´д｀) haah haah

Quite the odd compliment. Still, a direct mention is a direct mention, he thought. He was going to reply with a wisecrack or two, but Banri was faster.

“Hey man, if you’re gonna jerk off to my stream, at least keep it to yourself.”

The chat was going wild, none of them realizing the situation was more delicate than it seemed at first glance, but he’d noticed. He’d noticed that the tone of his voice had been harder than usual, that his body looked strangely stiff. It was just a throwaway comment by a faceless horny guy; he’d never have expected it to cause that much of a reaction on precisely Banri, the king of nonchalance. He hoped that awkward tension would melt away soon, and that those needles would stop attacking his stomach already.

 

Thankfully, other than spawning a few jokes, the incident didn’t have any major repercussions on their streaming session. Time went by. Banri ordered pizza. Itaru made a live demonstration of how to get a terrible gacha pull, and at that moment, he was really, really grateful for the hannya mask, though he supposed his real face wouldn’t look too different. Once they’d had enough of the chicken, they tried out some indie horror game.

> taruchi taruchi, are you getting sacchi’s nendo? release in a couple weeks!!! ٩(◦`꒳´◦)۶

“You bet I am. I didn’t preorder on the first day for nothing.”

“This guy kept refreshing the page until it appeared,” Banri piped up.

“Of course I did, I didn’t want it to go out of stock right under my nose. I would’ve never forgiven myself.”

“Out of stock as a _preorder_?”

“Better to cover all bases than to regret it later.”

> i wish someone loved me the way taruchi loves his waifu ( ;   ; )  
>  wait wasnt neo the waifu

“Like hell I am!”

Then, the doorbell rang, and as soon as it reached Itaru’s ears, he sprung up into an alert stance. “Pizza!”

“Fuckin’ finally, that felt like way more than 20 minutes,” he whined. “Can you go answer the door? I’ll wrap this up meanwhile.”

“With pleasure.” He waved goodbye to the viewers and, while Banri groaned a ‘no, we’re not taking the masks off’ at the camera, he ran downstairs, chanting all the way. Piz-za, piz-za, piz-za!

 

→

 

“Good evening, here’s your order from Dummynoes… uh.”

The tall delivery boy looked at him with a judging expression, a tired frown framed by his brown hair and uniform cap. For a moment, Itaru feared he was going to get scolded. It was then he realized he’d forgotten to take off the hannya mask. And, taking the situation into account, he had no intention of removing it.

The young man managed to put his work face back on. “Alright, so. A large pepperoni with double cheese, and a cream cheese salmon millefeuille pizza with fresh leaves and honey mustard vinaigrette,” he recited with a sweet smile.

“A what now?” That one with the fancy name was Banri’s. It had to be Banri’s.

The pizza boy went back to looking extremely tired. “No use asking me, sir. I simply deliver what I’m given. It’ll be 3,980 yen, please.”

Ah, so _that_ was why he was asked to get the door. That Banri was a sly one. Still, the tantalizing aroma of freshly baked pizza was enough to make him forget how many gems he was giving up as he handed over the money.

“And here is your change. Thank you for your patronage!”

 

→

 

“How’s this millefeuille monstrosity? Any good?”

“They could have used better quality cheese, but not bad overall. Trade you a square for a slice of yours?”

He held up two fingers with his free hand. “Two squares for a slice. It’s a _large_ pepperoni.”

“Just how petty can you be?” Banri grumbled as he handed over two pieces.

Itaru bit into that fancy flaky pastry that dared call itself a pizza. It was… delicious, actually.

“I like my pepperoni better,” he muttered.

“Peasant taste.”

“Yeah yeah, excuse me for not being born with your rich brat palate.”

Banri leaned over the table, scowling. “My _what_? You pickin’ a fight here, mate?”

Oooh, he’d made him angry. He was starting to enjoy those sporadic reminders that he was dealing with a teenage delinquent.

“I don’t suppose you’re planning to touch me with these oily fingers,” he retorted, and Banri immediately reached for a paper napkin with a ‘tsk’. What a good boy. “No, we’ll settle this like real men: with a few rounds of Tekkin 7.”

“Cool. Get ready to have your ass handed to you by a rich brat,” he said, smirking. “But you know I’m more of a Street Slugger kinda guy.”

“Don’t stick to one, you casual.”

 

→

 

His character struck a victory pose.

“HA! Taste that dirt, sucker!”

“Tch. Tied again, huh.”

“Nope. It’s 22 vs 21, in my favor.”

“Ah dammit, I was hoping you’d have forgotten.”

“Hmmm. To think the legendary Neo would be satisfied with a victory snatched through subterfuge.”

He laughed. “No way! I just wanted to bug you a lil’ bit.”

“Trying to get on my nerves, eh? Not yet there, but it was a decent attempt,” he conceded, patting Banri’s head a couple times. That scene felt somewhat familiar.

“Well,” his host stood up and stretched, “now I need to win the next one for sure, got a reputation to keep. Lemme go make some coffee.”

“Reputation? You just dragged it through the mud yourself when you lied about the win count.”

“Oh, come on!” He rolled his eyes. “Anyway, want a cup, too?”

“Nah.” He handed Banri his empty coke glass. “Refill, please and thank you.”

“Got it.”

Banri left for the kitchen, and he let out a huge yawn. He wasn’t yet used to talking for hours using his mouth instead of his fingers, and much less face to face. That real life socializing business demanded a whole lot of energy.

While waiting, he toyed with his controller. It had that distinct recently unboxed smell. The charging cable drew sharp zigzags on the floor, still keeping the shape it had taken after spending who knows how many months sitting in a warehouse. He lightly teased the right joystick, swiped his finger across the unspoiled matte surface of the D-pad, wanting to believe the item he was holding had been purchased for his sake only, that there had been no need for a second one until he came into the picture.

He wanted to believe Banri was like him.

His eyelids felt so heavy. He put down the controller, leaned on the bedpost and closed his eyes for a little while.

 

He woke up on a soft surface. Some quiet typing and clicking sounds reached his ears from not too far away. He tried opening his eyes: the room was mostly dark, save for the glow of the screen and the gentle light of a desktop lamp. He felt so comfy. Toasty warm. There was a pleasant weight covering him: soft, fluffy fabric. As far as he remembered, the last place he’d been sitting before falling asleep was colder and harder and blanket-less.

 _Looks like a flag has just been raised_ , some part of his brain told him, but Itaru told that part to shut up. He then made a weak attempt to sit up. It failed.

“Mornin’.” The typing stopped, and something that looked like Banri’s silhouette spoke. “They’ve been working you hard this week, haven’t they. I can’t believe you fell asleep in the middle of our match.”

“Mmm.” Words, so many words. He was confused. “This is your bed.”

“No, it’s my bathtub. What do you think?”

“Mm.”

“By the way, I’m counting it as my win since you defaulted.”

“M.” Something was telling him he should protest, but he didn’t find the energy.

It took him a few minutes to find it. Ah, how he wished he could collect mana from the environment, but he’d sadly been born in the wrong universe. No pulling off that trick here. He slithered off the bed and immediately grabbed the back of Banri’s chair for support, slumping down over his shoulder. He was in the middle of a conversation, which he made no special effort to minimize or hide in any way.

I’ll leave you to it, then! Neo-shi, fight!!! ٩ (*≧ ▽≦  *)۶  
nighty niiiight ☆

The rest of the log looked like a battalion of elaborate emotes, and it made his eyes sting even more than they already did. The pain was bad enough to trump his nosiness, so he ignored it in favor of the corner of the screen, darker and thankfully smiley free. It was 1:49 a.m.

“Fuck. Missed the last train.”

“Thought you were staying over anyway.”

“Ah…?”

As he watched Banri diligently close programs and turn his PC off, he considered his options. Usually, his first impulse would be to nope out of it, but he was having trouble supporting his own weight, and he was cold indoors already, he didn’t want to imagine what it would be like outside in the streets. He let his body drop back onto the bed.

“…Yeah. I’ll take you up on the offer, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure. Gonna go take a quick shower, wanna come with?”

“Do I have to?” He buried his face in the pillow.

Banri chuckled. “Nah.”

 

He might have nodded off again afterwards, and was woken up by the gentle rustling of the sheets. Banri was carefully sliding inside the bed, making sure the cold air in the room wouldn’t follow him inside. That guy had to be attentive even when it came to those tiny details, so unfair… Wait. What? Why was he sliding inside the bed? That one had an occupant, already. Was he planning to sleep there, too? That was bad. That was a Problem with a capital P.

He groaned. “Really…?”

“Hey, this is still my bed.”

Itaru responded with another dissatisfied grunt.

“Too lazy to go get a spare futon. It’s wide enough for both anyway.”

He groaned yet again, tossing around in protest, curling up into a ball under the blanket. He peeked out a minute later.

“Where’s my phone?”

Banri picked it up from the low headboard shelf. “Here. Try looking around before you ask, you lazy ass.”

“Nnn.” He opened one of his games and stared at the loading screen.

“You’re gonna do dailies? Thought you were sleepy.”

“I’m all awake now thanks to a certain someone.”

A laugh. “Must be a real douchebag.”

“Oh, he is.”

He slightly propped himself up with the pillow and began tapping away. Banri lay down next to him, watching him play, his arm sometimes hovering over the screen, tapping icons on his behalf. Now that was a type of co-op play he’d never thought he’d experience. He sort of wanted to ask him why he wasn’t taking care of his own daily missions, but he knew the answer would be some kind of smartass, complacent, absolutely irritating comment, which he had no need to hear. So he let him be, and focused on the task at hand, and on that loose strand of silky blow-dried hair tickling his shoulder.

It was strange. He was in someone else’s bed, wearing someone else’s clothes, and yet he was comfier than ever. Must be the high quality down pillows. But he was also perfectly okay with Banri lying right beside him, and he couldn’t blame the pillows for that.

 

Minutes, maybe hours passed, and his body began to slide even deeper under the blanket, seeking warmth and rest. When he ended up nodding off and dropping the phone on his face, Banri kindly put it away (after getting a good laugh, of course), and, after a stretch and a yawn, he dove back into the bed and wished him good night.

Did he actually fall asleep, now that he was supposed to? No. Of course he didn’t. It would have been too easy. Being okay with someone lying next to him didn’t mean that he was okay sleeping beside that someone. Yes, earlier he’d been trying to give a handjob to a cardboard nose on that someone’s face, but that was just another way to fool around. That had been a joke, and his current situation was anything but. Actually sleeping next to another person, on the same mattress and under the same sheets, required a certain level of trust and intimacy, a level he considered far beyond their own.

He tossed and turned, making sure not to touch Banri, or let a single hair cross into his side of the bed. He couldn’t relax in any of the positions he tried. He let out a sigh of frustration, and the figure next to him started snickering.

“Not funny.”

“What’s up, can’t sleep without your own pillow?”

“Yeah, yours feels too nice. I can’t sleep like this,” he half-lied.

“Easily solved,” Banri said, yanking the pillow from under his head in one swift move.

“Give that back, you little shit!”

He got the pillow back with a few slaps and some laughter. Things calmed down a bit later, but he wasn’t any closer to falling asleep. How surprising.

He traced the silhouette of the desk against the dark wall. Once more, he remembered Banri violently shoving the campus brochures in the drawer, that pained look on his face. The urge to do something was still there. He knew keeping quiet was the prudent thing to do… No, to put it bluntly, he knew he shouldn’t stick his nose in the business of someone who didn’t want any noses around. The first warning had been clear enough, and he didn’t want to find out the consequences of not heeding said warning.

Maybe he’d try finding a middle ground: he wouldn’t insist on the subject, but he’d tell Banri he was willing to lend a friendly ear, at the very least. With that tiny gesture, he wouldn’t repay all the debts that had been piling up during the past few months, but it might be a way to start. He turned his head a tiny bit and parted his lips, readying himself to speak.

“Itaru-san.”

His name. Coming from that mouth. His stomach did a pirouette. “Yeah?”

“Er, that guy from earlier…”

“Which guy?”

“Um, boner guy.”

The epithet made him laugh. “What about boner guy?”

“What that guy said…” Banri let out a deep breath. “I mean, you didn’t seem bothered at all. Didn’t it make you mad?”

“Not particularly. That guy doesn’t even know me, and I don’t know him, so who cares.”

“It didn’t sit well with me.”

“I noticed.”

“I wouldn’t give a damn if it was about me, but it’s like… Well, I don’t want them saying that sort of shit about a guest of mine. It pisses me off.”

He chuckled. “I see. I’m happy that you’re concerned with preserving my honor, Mr Gallant Knight.”

“Ugh, why do you always gotta be like this?” Banri lightly kicked him on the legs, then he suddenly gasped and locked his feet around Itaru’s. “Jesus, what’s wrong with your feet? They’re freezing!”

“Are they?”

“Yeah, man. It’s like touching a pair of icicles.” He rubbed his feet against the icicles, as if trying to heat them up.

“Hrm. Then don’t touch them.” He turned away and curled up, moving his feet out of Banri’s range. He wasn’t sure about those, but his face was quickly warming up. Too much touching. Was that supposed to be something people casually did, touching people’s feet? Or touching people with their feet?

Not that he was particularly eager to know. He stayed silent and motionless in his corner of the bed, and waited.

And waited a bit more.

He stayed like that for an unknown amount of time, until Banri’s breaths became deeper, slower. Once he was 99.9% sure he was asleep, he turned around, stretching out his benumbed legs.

And then Banri rolled over, effectively cornering him against the wall. Crap.

“…Don’t… run away…”

As if he could, trapped as he was. He tried pushing him away, but Banri responded with a few fumbling kicks and punches that barely connected with his target, thank goodness.

“…cking asshole…” He pressed his forehead against Itaru’s shoulder, locking imaginary horns.

Well, that was some colorful sleep talk. Half troubled and half amused, Itaru stuck a few thin fingers between shoulder and forehead, peeling Banri off as gently as he could. “Hey, stop that, I’m not the enemy.”

“…taru-san.”

His breath hitched. “That’s me.”

With that, Banri’s whole body seemed to relax, and the wrinkles that had been forming on his forehead dissolved under Itaru’s fingertips. Whoever was haunting his dreams had gone somewhere far, far away.

“Am I…” He realized he was still touching his forehead, and hastily retreated. “Can you hear me?”

Banri shifted in his sleep, instinctively moving towards the source of the voice. “Yeah.”

“I bet you’re actually awake,” he whispered.

He replied with a soft hum.

Itaru inched closer, observing. “…You’re not trolling me, are you?”

A quiet, breathy laugh. “I won.”

“No you did not,” he chuckled.

“…did,” Banri mumbled in protest.                                                                                       

Now that was interesting. The guy was conked out for real, and, apparently, Itaru’s words were getting through even in dreams. A real treasure trove of potential. There were countless ways he could use that ability to his advantage, for the sake of his own entertainment, and he wouldn’t mind making full use of it, that was a given. However…

Itaru grinned. He’d had one awesome, terrible idea.

One day, he would send Banri on a vivid, colorful adventure, narrated exclusively for him. Ah, yes, he was going to put all those years of roleplaying experience to good use. He’d drop him in a fantasy world, give him a special ability and a crappy low level weapon, send him on a quest to recover some magical thingamajig, make him face powerful and bloodthirsty opponents—he could barely contain his excitement at the prospect of voicing them all—, let him ultimately save the world. He’d weave the most fun dream he could offer, and listen to Banri interact with their shared imaginary world, watch him overcome whatever trials he put him through. He wasn’t confident enough to try yet, but he definitely wanted to. One day.

He did have some second thoughts. Frankly, he felt rather embarrassed about the whole idea. It was ridiculous to make all those grandiose plans when there was no guarantee it would work at all. Besides, whispering RPG adventures in someone’s ear was a foolproof way to reach both peak nerd and peak creepster in one go.

And yet he still wanted to give it a shot.

He lay supine, eyes moving here and there, hoping the dark bedroom would tell him how to proceed, give him a few answers. Yeah, he wasn’t getting any more sleep that night, either. Might as well stay on guard duty, and make sure no terrors would disturb Banri’s rhythmical breathing. That way, at least one of them would get to sleep soundly.


	11. Thin ice mechanics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter of the year! I made iiiit...! Bit too late to wish you happy holidays, I suppose, but I hope you'll have a great 2019!
> 
> Anyhow, here's another chapter of sticking Taruchi in places he doesn't belong. It's 100% cheese... like 50% blue cheese and 50% mozzarella. I am so ashamed.

Christmas carols and mirthful laughter filled the air around the ice rink. Itaru looked around. A few families, a few couples. Definitely not a place a guy would usually take his guy friends.

“Why are we even here?”

“So you can get some sun,” Banri said.

He pointed at the gray sky. “Mission failed, GG.”

“Bah, whatever. It’s gonna be fun.”

“Sure. You go have your fun then, I’ll stay here and cheer you on while you break a leg or two.”

“Ah hell no, I’m getting you on that rink.”

“No way.”

“Itaru-san, you know how it always goes.” And with that, he left for the skate rental booth—with every intention to get two pairs, of course—but not before flashing him one of those pesky, obnoxious, revolting shit-eating grins.

 

His knees weren’t built to deal with slippery surfaces. He held onto the railing for dear life, trying to regain control of his wobbly skate-clad legs, hoping that, maybe, if he wished hard enough, he’d magically teleport back to the comfort of his own home. Nope, no such luck. He shouldn’t have left it in the first place.

Banri was gliding in circles near him, possibly waiting for him to fall on his ass and get some entertainment at his expense, like a vulture hovering over its moribund lunch. He slid and twirled, elegantly cutting the ice with his blades, making it look so easy, so effortless, that Itaru was tempted to stick a foot out and trip him the next time he came close enough. He’d hold back, though, as he could perfectly see the attempt backfiring. With his current lack of coordination, there was no guarantee said foot wouldn’t slide away and force him to do the splits right then and right there.

The situation was dire enough already: each of his legs was beginning to follow a different path, only getting further and further away from the other, not having any plans to meet again anytime soon. Banri was doing a shoddy job of holding in his laughter.

“You just brought me here to laugh at me, didn’t you.”

“Nah, that’s an added bonus.”

“I hate you,” he monotoned.

“Sure you do.”

Every now and then, there was some giggling in the background. People having fun and minding their own business, the rational part of his brain told him, but another part kept trying to convince him they were all laughing at his shameful display. _Ah, the judging gaze, it burns._ He made another attempt to regain control over his legs, failed, and sighed.

“Here.”

Slowly, tentatively, he turned around, and saw Banri reaching his hand out. He stared vacantly at him, waiting for him to provide an explanation, because the easiest one did not compute.

“Hold onto me.” Oh. So they were actually doing that. Horrible.

“Can’t I just stay here?”

“Itaru-san, you know—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know you won’t stop harassing me until I do it.”

“Right.”

“Why did I even come here…?” he lamented, looking back at his freezing hands.

“So you can get some sun,” Banri chuckled.

“This sounds awfully familiar.”

He strengthened his grip on the rail with one hand, and let go with the other, feeling about the air for something he could latch on. There he was.

“Good. Now the other.”

“Hrmm.”

“Come on, I got you.”

He hesitated for a while, but finally let go, panicking during the short time his hand was floating on air. He’d never been as happy about another human being touching him as when Banri finally grabbed his free arm. That didn’t mean he was happy about having left behind the (relative) safety of the edge of the rink. He looked to the side, already yearning for his beloved railing.

“Itaru-san, eyes ahead.”

“But then I’ll have to see your ugly mug.”

Banri laughed through his nose. “And I’ll have to see yours, deal with it.”

And so the ice skating tutorial began. Banri took it upon himself to drill the basics into his head, working on his woefully clumsy, erratic steps, poking fun at him whenever his legs went the wrong way, or was about to step on him, or spectacularly failed in any other way, but keeping a tight hold on his arms, still. That had to be a metaphor for something. If it wasn’t a metaphor for something, he was eating both his skates, one after the other.

Not that he minded being taken care of, most of the time, but frankly, it was getting kind of embarrassing to have a teenager coach him on whatever life had to offer while receiving nothing in return. The problem was that he had no idea what to give to a filthy rich thrill seeker. He’d just have to stick to providing challenges as a rival and party mate, as far as his abilities would allow. Maybe he’d run dry one day. He didn’t want to think about what would happen next.

“You’re getting better at this.”

“Eh?” As soon as Banri’s voice brought him back to reality, he remembered he was standing on ice, held up by nothing but a pair of thin blades, and started wobbling, ready to lose his balance.

“Careful there!” Banri steadied him, thank goodness. “Just relax, you were doing well enough for a weak-ass couch potato.”

“This weak-ass couch potato is very offended right now.”

“I can tell. ‘Kay, time to remove the training wheels.” He loosened his grip on Itaru’s forearms, threatening to let go.

“Oh no no no. Don’t you dare. Don’t. You. _Dare_ ,” he panicked, tightening his hold to compensate.

“Come on, I’ll treat you to one pizza for each second you stay standing.”

The magic word! “A whole pizza? Not a slice?”

“Yup.”

How tempting. “Full size?”

“Standard size.”

“And I get to choose all the toppings I want?”

“Yeah.”

That was one sweet, sweet deal, which meant Banri didn’t expect much from him. That is to say, he was being indisputably realistic. Unless… “Okay, where’s the catch?”

“The catch is you actually have to do it.”

“Ugh.” Just as he’d thought. Zero expectations. Ah, well, time to get some free pizza. “You won’t come tackle me or anything, I suppose?”

“Nah. Difficulty’s high enough for you.”

“No need to rub it in.” He cast his eyes towards the ground, making sure his feet were at a somewhat appropriate angle, and steadied himself. “Promise you won’t laugh once I fall on my ass and break my tailbone.”

“I make no guarantees.”

Itaru didn’t want to risk looking away from his feet to make sure, but he knew for a fact that Banri had another nasty smirk on his face. He sighed.

“Right… Let’s do this.” He slowly let go, one hand first, then the other. Banri lowered his arms, letting them hover below his at first, then gradually increasing the distance between them.

“One… two…”

He didn’t like that at all. His legs were shaking, shaking badly, and his left foot was starting to slide backwards. He needed to hold out a bit longer, for the sake of free food, but he could perfectly see his face connecting with the hard floor in a matter of seconds, or less.

“Three… four… five—”

He couldn’t do it anymore. “Help!”

Banri dashed to his side and caught him right as his legs gave out.

“Five pizza! Good job, Itaru-san,” he praised him with a sweet voice and a head pat, as if he was talking to a child. Asshole. Once he was done reeling from the experience, he’d look for a proper punishment.

“I think I’ll need to redeem one for lunch to recover from this.”

“To recover from five seconds of standing up?”

“Exactly,” he said in a cutting tone, one that allowed no objections.

Little by little, trying his best to keep his balance, he straightened up, finally reaching his young mentor’s eye level. He looked way too amused.

“Banri… shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything!”

“Your face is loud enough.”

“Haaah?!”

 

At one point, Itaru decided that if everyone else on that rink could do it, he could, too. He figured that, if worst came to worst, he’d get to skip work for a few weeks while he was stuck healing at the hospital, so he let go of his reservations and applied himself to figuring out that ice skating business. He still sucked at it, but at least it was an active kind of sucking. Better than standing around waiting to slip. His legs… no, his whole body was starting to get sore as hell from all the moving and clenching, and he could feel it was going to be unbearable the following day. Oh well, he’d deal with that when the time came.

Banri had removed his so-called training wheels once he’d gotten better at staying on his feet, but he never moved too far away, dutifully keeping an eye on him. “I don’t wanna miss it when you fall on your face and break your front teeth,” he’d said, and yet he would still rush to grab his arm whenever he as much as staggered. What would Banri’s face look like, if he actually did fall down and break a few bones? Maybe he’d panic more badly than the victim of the accident himself. It was funny how his atrociousness was enough to even make Mr Easy Peasy nervous.

Nevertheless, knowing someone had his back was precisely what had allowed him to let go and get better. Now he was curious about how far that backing extended; besides, after regaining some control over his movements, he was feeling strangely adventurous. It was time. Time to do something that completely clashed with his nature.

“Banri.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m gonna jump, come catch me.”

“You serious?” he asked, gawking at him as if he had grown a brightly colored unicorn horn on his forehead.

“As serious as five stacks of poison.” He began striding towards him, picking up just enough speed for the cold air to cut his cheeks. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt free, and capable of anything. He could do this. He was gonna do this. He bent his knees, readied himself to jump… and somehow tripped over himself. “Oh shit.”

“Whoa, hey—!”

Banri launched himself forward, like one of those baseball kids making a last ditch effort to reach the base, and slid under him right on time to be used as a cushion, both of them collapsing in an undefined heap on the frozen surface. Safe! More or less. As he burst into laughter, he heard a groan coming from underneath him. He rolled over to take his weight off Banri, each of his muscles aching as he moved.

“The hell are you on?!”

“Dunno, dopamine?”

Banri joined in the laughter. “You gave me a real fright, y’know.”

“Worth it.”

“You’d have eaten the floor if I’d reacted a moment later.”

He watched Banri as he got back up, lifting one knee after the other, and then he stretched his arms out on the ice, taking advantage of the extra free space. “Bah, what would life be without the occasional reckless impulse?”

“You’re insane,” he wheezed.

“Only occasionally.”

Banri poked his side with a skate. “So, are you getting up, or…?”

“Nah, I’m fine down here.”

He felt like one of those shounen anime protagonists, lying down there with his arms spread out, his whole body sore from both the exercise and the laughter, staring at the open (still gray) sky. It felt good. Also, due to the soreness, lying down seemed like a very pleasant and suitable activity to engage in at that time. He wasn’t moving.

“You don’t really blend in with the background, you know.”

“Got any high stealth gear, then?”

“I know of a stealth ability called standing up and acting normally.” 

“I know of an ability called yanking Banri’s leg and making him fall on his ass to teach him to respect his elders.”

“Thanks for the warning, then,” he snickered, skating away from his reach. Itaru flipped him the bird from the floor.

 

→

 

“What about this one? Looks cool, no?”

That time, Banri had brought him a black leather bomber jacket with a bold WILD SOUL embroidered on the back. In a nutshell, something he wouldn’t be caught dead wearing. By then, there had to be a full dozen of carefully selected clothing items in the fitting room.

The situation was similar to a cat bringing dead rats to whichever human it had taken under its wing. A condescending sort of kindness. He supposed that, in Banri’s eyes, he was hopeless when it came to hunting for clothes. The feeling was mutual, though.

Nevertheless, kindness was kindness. He still had zero intention to buy any of those—and 24,990 yen was a ridiculous price for a second-hand jacket, as well made as it was—but trying it on was the least he could do.

He looked at his skeptical reflection in the mirror. The jacket accentuated his shoulders, making his legs appear even scrawnier than usual. While he didn’t particularly enjoy decking himself out in suits, he could make those work, at least, but that rebel-without-a-cause look was beyond him. Judging by how pleased he looked with himself, however, Banri didn’t seem to agree. Itaru raised an eyebrow at him.

“Wild, huh.”

“Thought so. You’re rocking it,” he beamed.

How was he rocking it? What part of that gaudy monstrosity suited a huge nerd like him, exactly? Was Banri blind, or did his dubious sense of taste extend beyond human comprehension? No, he was just having a laugh, wasn’t he? That must be it. Mannequin time over. He unzipped the jacket, ready to shrug it off.

“Hold on, let me go get some accessories.”

“Huh?” Even more stuff? Was he serious?

“Might as well complete the outfit, no?” he insisted, showing another wide grin.

“Coming from you, I suppose I can expect a chunky skull ring or something equally terrible.”

Ah, whatever. He’d just let him have his fun. Even if he’d been having fun at his expense the whole day, he was smiling a whole lot, and that was good. Better than boring him to death.

He welcomed those few minutes to himself, too. He had a few full stamina gauges to take care of, as well as an event point quota to reach. He sat down on the wooden stool and got down to work, mildly curious about what Banri would bring next, but not in a rush to see it.

 

A few minutes later, he heard the rustling of the curtain being pulled back. He didn’t look up, as he had a timed puzzle to complete, and whatever baubles Banri brought could wait. However, Banri could not: not a second had passed that he started messing with his hair, dropping something behind his ears and on his nose, and suddenly the world looked a slight shade of sepia.

“Aviator style. They’ve got this classic charm, don’t you think?”

“Hmm.” Once he secured the clear, he looked up from the screen and into the mirror, checking out the sunglasses. “These look surprisingly decent, coming from you.”

“Rude. Got those, too,” he added, handing him a pair of leather gloves. “Touchscreen compatible. I assumed you wouldn’t wanna wear any other kind.”

“You are correct.”

He tried them on, inspecting the fit and the supple material. Not bad. He liked them. Yeah, they were admittedly nice, even if the price was, as expected, ludicrous. The price of a few hundred gems... Okay, still affordable. He was about to test them out on his screen when he noticed Banri removing his own coat.

“Picked something up for yourself, too?”

“Yup.” He stopped pulling his T-shirt off to point at the fitting room’s most recent addition.

Itaru ran his eyes over the silky dress shirt, momentarily surprised by its elegant simplicity. Then, he went back to watching Banri pull his T-shirt over his head, remove the dress shirt from the hanger, slide it on, button it up. His body was more toned than his lean frame gave away at first glance. It was to be expected, considering all the hours he must have spent exercising via fistfights, but it still had the air of a body shaped without even meaning, without even trying. Itaru had never paid that much attention to his own, he was alright as long as he looked presentable in his business clothes, but the sight of Banri checking himself out in the mirror made him feel self conscious about his protruding ribs, his chicken legs, his pizza-stuffed tummy.

“Thoughts?”

“Looks nice enough,” he offered.

He undid the first, the second, the third button. “Well, yeah. I look good in everything.”

Ah, that smug face. Itaru decided he’d accidentally throw a hand grenade his way next time they played a survival game, and then looked back at his phone. “Nyeh nyeh nyeh I look good in everything.”

He laughed. “Still true.”

“Let’s see you in a haute couture garbage bag next. You’d look amazing, I’m sure.”

“And now’s when you say my regular clothes already look like a garbage bag?”

“Oh, I like this. I don’t even need to trashtalk you anymore, you do it on your own. Fully automated bullying.”

“Convenient, huh. Now you try it on,” Banri said, dangling the shirt in front of his face and blocking his view of the screen.

“Why?” He grabbed the slippery garment with a small frown. “Is this a ‘who wore it better’ competition? I’ll pass.”

“Nah, it’s for the party.”

“The party?”

“The Christmas party at your office. I’ll let you borrow it.”

Borrow. So, he was buying the shirt, and he intended to make him wear it for his company’s holiday party? Had he ever talked to Banri about said party? That one line raised too many questions.

“You mentioned it last Wednesday,” he stated. He wasn’t reading his mind, was he…?

“Only in passing. Why would you remember that?”

“Why wouldn’t I? Means you won’t be online. That’s gonna be one boring night.”

“Mm.” He looked down, hiding a smile. There was something about their whole exchange that made him feel restless, but those words heartened him nonetheless. “You won’t be the only one bored out of his skull that evening.”

“Figured as much.” Banri pinched one of the leather gloves by a finger and pulled, trying to slide it off. “Come on, try it on.”

“I can undress by myself, thanks.” He withdrew the gloved hand, and Banri promptly switched his target, pulling on the jacket instead. “Quit it!”

“Then get on with it.”

Did he really have to? He was already feeling inadequate, out of his element, and now he had to deal with that disquiet the origin of which he couldn’t pinpoint. Banri’s forcefulness wasn’t helping, either. He’d rather not have anyone looking at his naked chest at that moment, but the damn kid didn’t look like he was willing to give him any privacy.

“Get out, it’s kinda cramped in here.”

“Huh? You were fine until now.”

“I didn’t have to share the room with like fifty jackets until now.”

“There aren’t—”

“Whatever, just get out,” he demanded, pushing a baffled Banri towards the other side of the curtain.

Finally, some breathing room. He sighed and began to peel off his top clothes, defenselessness and dejection growing with each layer. Then, he took a long hard look at his frame: scrawny, spindly, as it had always been. He hated it as a kid. He’d learned to live with it, at some point—it got way easier once he was able to leave behind the humiliating hell that was PE class. However, for some godforsaken reason, he’d been transported back to those grim days of constantly being the butt of the jokes, being chosen last, being the odd one out.

He picked up the dress shirt, ran a few fingers through the silky fabric. Hopefully it would be loose enough to hide the fact there was absolutely nothing noteworthy underneath.

“So? You putting it on or what?”

In a corner of the mirror, there was something he’d rather not have seen: Banri’s face, peeking from behind the curtain. Itaru grappled the offending element, making sure he covered the eyes, and tried to shove it away.

“Out.”

“Why does it matter, I’ve seen you wearing less!” There it was, that annoying snickering voice. Banri was technically right: he _had_ changed in front of him a few days earlier, back at his place, however…

“That was before I stuffed myself with pizza, not after!”

“Yeah, now that you mention it, I think I’ve seen some poking out over here.” With a lightning-fast hand, he squeezed his tummy, and Itaru resorted to hitting him with the shirt until he retreated amid breathless, hysterical laugher.

Phew. He hoped the staff would be too busy to pay attention to their—“Ow!”

Something poked him hard in the ribs. In the mirror, he spotted Banri’s arm retreating from the dressing room just as quick as he’d snuck it inside, leaving a rustling curtain and a trail of laughter as proof. Itaru chuckled despite himself, wondering why fate had chosen him of all people to get adopted by that problem child.

 

→

 

He’d bought the gloves, in the end, and Banri had also made sure to stick the silky shirt in his bag. Maybe he would actually wear it to the dinner party. As much as he ragged on his friend for his dubious taste, it was still nice to have an item he’d chosen for his sake. Something they shared, in a way.

They aimlessly walked around the mall for a while. There was no interesting event or game release to focus on, so he wasn’t in a rush to go home, for once. It was strangely enjoyable to just stroll around and check out shop windows chock full of kitschy Christmas decorations, taking in the bustling, festive atmosphere, the handbells blasting through the speakers, the bright lights. At one point, they found a holiday themed cardboard cutout and, compelled to lend his face to the faceless Santa Claus, he sneaked behind and stuck his head out of the hole.

“Ho ho ho, Merry Commercial Holidays! Enjoy being single and lonely on Christmas Eve this year, too!”

Banri snorted. “You’re like, a week early.”

“Who cares. Come get in the other hole,” he said, nodding towards the beheaded reindeer.

“Why, want me to be your ride?”

“Santa’s ride is the sleigh, you fool.”

“Same difference.”

“Then get in.”

“Nah, I’ll pass,” he said as he grabbed his phone to take a picture, snickering.

“No fun.”

“Watching your shitty Santa impersonation is more fun.”

“I see.” Itaru rested his chin on the face hole. “You’ve been a bad boy, Banri.”

Another snort. “You sounded just like one of those slutty teachers from cheap pornos.”

He cocked his head, shooting him a farcical leer. “Is that what you watch, cheap pornos?”

“Sometimes, I guess.”

Such a casual confession made Itaru’s eyebrows rise. He didn’t expect anyone to admit to watching those, at least not in public and while sober. But maybe real world friendship was about discussing porn out loud, too, and he had to admit he was rather curious. He left the cardboard cutout behind while wondering about porn watching habits and other things that weren’t his business in any shape or form.

“I thought a popular guy like you would have people waiting in line whenever you want to let off some steam.”

“Too much of a bother,” Banri replied with a light shrug. Itaru was both irked and amused that he hadn’t taken the trouble to deny the popular bit, either.

“Yeah.”

“Not like I could be getting any, since I’m always—”

“Playing with me?”

“You got it.”

“I’m not gonna take responsibility for _that_.”

He laughed. “Hey, I didn’t say anything this time!”

“You were, uh, implying implications.”

“Heh. You wish.”

“No thank you. And keep this ego in check, will you.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Once the laughter died out, they walked in silence for a minute. He watched Banri adjust the charcoal gray knit scarf around his shoulders. He’d been having second thoughts about returning it to its owner that morning: he wouldn’t have minded keeping it for a while longer, it kept him company.

“And what about you, Itaru-san?”

“What about me?”

“Got anyone to let off some steam with?”

“All of me belongs to Sacchi, and I’d never sully her. Sacchi’s pure.” He frowned. It was a hard pill to swallow, but deep down, he knew that line had felt pre-recorded, artificial. That revelation made him uneasy.

“Yeah, I knew you’d say that.” He could hear the weary sigh peeking between Banri’s words, and it irritated him even more.

“Why ask, then?”

“‘Cause, you know, in the end, she’s 2D.” _Ah, here it is._

“If something as trivial as an extra dimension is enough to shake your determination, you don’t deserve to love to begin with,” he said, as flatly as he could manage. Another parroted line.

Banri chuckled. “That’s extreme.”

“Meh.”

He didn’t feel like talking anymore. Banri’s words had completely killed his mood. He’d only stated a fact, one could hardly blame him for that, and Itaru knew sulking like a child would accomplish nothing. He’d heard the same words countless times, from his family, from Chikage, from everyone who’d come to know about that side of him. However, hearing that dreaded line from the mouth of the person he’d started considering a good friend, now that made his stomach churn.

The growing feeling that he was lying to himself had nothing to do with it. It definitely did not.

“I’m kinda envious, though. I think it’s cool to be this passionate about something, like—”

“No need to make nice, I know you’re judging me. Just like everyone else. My own damn fault for thinking you’d be different.” Itaru had only meant to add a droplet of venom or two to his words, but ended up spilling the whole bottle. Oops.

“What do you mean by that…?”

Well, crap. His shoelaces were extremely interesting all of a sudden.

“Itaru-san, say something.”

He didn’t dare look up. Snapping at every single living thing while gaming was part of his daily life, but losing his cool like that when talking to someone in person, with no screens between to absorb the shock, was completely new to him. He had no idea how to fix it.

“Can you at least look at me when I’m talking to you, dammit?!”

No, he couldn’t look. What he had just done would have consequences, and he didn’t want to face them, he didn’t want to see the amount of hurt in Banri’s eyes. It would sting if it was too much, and it would also sting if it was too little.

“For fuck’s sake, Itaru-san!” Banri grabbed him by the chin, attempting to make him look up, even if by force. His first reflex was to squeeze his eyes shut and swat the hand away. Fuck. Another screwup for the ever-growing collection.

Itaru was aware that, with each and every one of his stupid reactions, he was stepping further and deeper into that muddy swamp of bullshit he’d himself created, and still he was unable to find a way out of it. He knew that pointless outburst might have just cost him a friendship. Banri would give up and ditch him right there, and he’d fully deserve it. There had to be a way to fix it. He had no idea what it was. He’d just try opening his mouth and hope something good would come out of it.

“I’m tired, I’m going home.” _You’re an idiot. You’re a fucking idiot, Chigasaki Itaru._

“No you’re not. Like hell I’m leaving it on this note.”

Banri grabbed him by the wrist, tight enough for it to hurt, and made to drag him somewhere. He stayed frozen on the spot at first, still looking for a proper way to react, but all that accomplished was to make the soles of his shoes screech against the floor as Banri pulled harder. He soon gave up, choosing to obediently follow him through the streets, wherever he was taking him. While he was relieved things got rolling again, some way or other, there was no way to know what was coming. Restlessness wouldn’t stop gnawing at him.

“Can you let go? People are watching.”

“Yeah, they’re judging you, too.” He paused. “Tch, I’m not helping at all, am I?  Fuck.”

 

→

 

They hadn’t walked so many blocks, but the cold air made his throat hurt, and Banri’s grip on his wrist was too tight for his liking, not showing any signs of easing up. Neither of them spoke. A few times, Itaru fantasized about breaking the silence, but he felt he’d forfeited his right to speak back when he’d refused to do so earlier, at the worst possible time. Wow, wasn’t he a prick. He put some more haste in his stride, hoping to arrive to their destination even if just one second faster.

He got his wish soon enough, as Banri’s steps came to a halt near… a game center? He wasn’t sure if that was the most obvious place to go in that kind of situation, but, somehow, it didn’t feel wrong, for them. Were they going to duke it out? He’d gladly do it, no matter the outcome, if it meant they could get rid of that bitter tension hovering over them. One of the machines near the entrance, a fighting game where they’d challenged each other countless times, happened to be free, and that’s where he was taken.

“Right, this one’ll do the job.”

He finally released him. Itaru still didn’t dare to look him in the eye, but he could perfectly tell Banri’s harsh gaze was on him.

“Best of three. You win, I apologize. And if I win, I want you to do the same, because I’m mad. I’m mad as fuck. I hate this silent treatment shit, you hear?! It drives me fucking nuts!”

Itaru knew he had it coming, but getting yelled at hurt. It hurt a lot, and it hurt especially because he had never intended for any of that to happen, and it had only been due to his passiveness that things had snowballed to that point. After taking that hit, his poker face was on its last legs. He felt that attempting to speak would only make his voice crack, make his mask’s durability reach zero and let the tears he was fighting back finally spill. He nodded, mouthing a “yes.”

In all honesty, he couldn’t wait to start. He’d rather face a screen and a few buttons than confront Banri directly. He would need to do it at some point, but the more he could delay it, the better. Arcade games were something he was familiar with, something he was good at, and dealing with emotional strain was not.

They chose their settings in silence, an uneasy silence that sorely stood out against the incessant beeping and clanging coming from the background. Once the countdown started, he took a deep breath and emptied his mind.

He pressed buttons on autopilot, focusing solely on his opponent’s moves. On the back of his mind, as if coming from far, far away, there was Banri’s constant tongue clicking and muttering of curses. He was still putting up a good fight—it was Banri, after all—but he could perceive he was tilted from the get-go, his playstyle way clumsier than one would expect from his designated rival. It wasn’t too hard to find a moment of distraction to deliver the final blow with a well aimed combo.

“Fucking shit.”

He ventured a quick, cautious look at Banri. His lips were pressed in a thin line, unusually pale. He wondered if he’d still have the same expression, had he won. Maybe he should have let him win. No, it would have been too obvious, that would have only succeeded in angering him even more.

“Next.”

As he set his eyes back on the screen, he heard a few mumbling voices coming from behind, and realized a crowd of onlookers had been gathering around them, attracted by the high voltage match. He felt a chill run down his spine. He didn’t want to be seen, especially not at that moment, when all he could think about was Banri’s livid expression and how much he loathed himself for causing it. Also, what if… what if one of those people had been watching their stream the other day? Their faces might have been covered back then, but their hair was perfectly visible. It would only be too easy to put two and two together.

When the second round started, he was unable to focus at all. The fear of being found out now plagued his mind, adding a new layer of misery to the powerlessness of not knowing what to do if he won, or if he lost. Not knowing if their friendship would recover from that, regardless of what he did. It sucked. How he wished he was home instead, at his desk or on the couch, playing online. None of this would have happened if they’d both stayed at home.

He lost, of course. He’d never been so embarrassed of his performance in his entire gaming career.

Banri just sighed, making his disappointment apparent, painfully so. “Are you even trying?”

Not hard enough for his liking, he was sure of that much. The third round would be his first and only chance to redeem himself.

“Last one.”

At any rate, if he wanted to make amends, he should start by getting rid of that insulting performance. Banri didn’t have time for scrubs, and guess what? Neither did he. He’d played that game a million times, same character, same arena, same opponent: all he needed to do was remember what it felt like, get his rhythm back, do his thing. It should be easy. Real piece of cake. _I’m doing this. I need to do this._

He recalled the rush he’d felt the first time they played against each other on a machine just like that one. It hadn’t even been that long, but that sensation had filled him enough to feel like it had lasted a whole lifetime, it had shaken him enough to transform his outlook on the idea of playing together, of friendship itself. It had made him want to seek something more than automated opponent matching, temporary parties, communicating through a keyboard or even a microphone. He couldn’t afford to lose that, and in order not to lose it, he had to give it his all, pour his everything into that single match. He didn’t know whether he would win or not, but he sure as hell was aiming for victory.

He had forgotten that glaring fact during the past few minutes, but playing with Banri was fun. It was fun as hell. He pressed familiar button combinations, attacking, moving, defending, enjoying every moment, and it all went by in a blur. He heard a pained scream. His character struck a pose. YOU WIN. He threw his fists in the air.

“HELL YEEEAH!!!”

From the background, some clapping, a few impressed mumbles. He was suddenly reminded of where he was, of the circumstances that brought him there. The euphoria fell down to his feet and trickled out of his body, disappearing into the cracks between the floor tiles, soon to be replaced by mortification.

Banri burst out laughing, just like that, as if he hadn’t looked ready to kill someone minutes earlier. “That’s what we came here for,” he said, lightly slapping his back.

“Mm.” He didn’t have much else to say, utterly embarrassed as he was.

“Well, I guess the loser’s got something to do now.”

“Right here?” he ventured to ask.

Banri cleared his throat and faced the gallery. “Aight, so, may I have your attention please.”

Ah, no, not good. He grabbed his arm in a weak attempt to hold him back. “Don’t tell me you’re actually doing this.”

“You bet I am.”

Another wave of murmurs came from the spectators. Was that a performance? A punishment game? Did someone lose a bet? What was he planning to do? Itaru kept his eyes fixed on Banri’s feet, avoiding eye contact with everyone in the vicinity, hoping it would all be over soon.

“‘Kay, so earlier I screwed up and hurt my best friend here…”

His… what? Best what? Lip service? Maybe he’d misheard. No way that was how Banri really saw him, there had to be a billion better candidates for the position. He lifted his eyes, thinking that, maybe, somehow, seeing his face would make the truth apparent. Banri was looking at him dead in the eye. Fuck. As if he’d been zapped, he immediately directed his gaze somewhere else, pretending he’d never tried to peek in the first place.

“…but I didn’t notice, and kept making it worse by acting like a real ass, so…”

The audience’s ooohs and aaahs did nothing but make him want to disappear. He wanted a chasm to open up on the floor and swallow him whole. Getting sucked into hell couldn’t be worse than the current situation.

“Time to try and make things right.” With each step Banri took towards him, he was more and more aware of the many pairs of eyes setting on his person, piercing him with curiosity. Nosiness, rather. He wanted out. Still, it was also his responsibility to make things right: he had no choice but to finally look up, even though he was not sure about what face he should be making. “Itaru-san, will you forgive me?”

As if on cue, the crowd started chanting: _do it, do it, do it_. What sort of trashy soap opera had he been transported to? It was ridiculous. If only they knew he was the one needing to beg for forgiveness. He should be brave enough to say it out loud, tell everyone. He should be, but he wasn’t.

With reddened cheeks, he nodded, showing Banri a feeble smile. “You think I could say no after being cornered like this?”

“Great,” he beamed. “Now let’s get the fuck outta here.”

And so they grabbed their belongings and vamoosed amid cheers and clapping.

 

→

 

“That was absolutely unnecessary and I hate you a lot.”

“It’s still below flash mob proposal level,” he countered, shrugging.

“Banri…” He gave him a squinty glare. “Do me a favor and never ever pronounce those sickening words again.”

He snickered. “I thought you were the type to get a kick out of public humiliation performances.”

“Only when I’m not involved!”

“I know that.”

“And that’s precisely why you pulled that stunt.”

“Yep.”

“Still, that was the most outlandish apology I’ve ever witnessed,” he continued, his expression softening into a relaxed smile. “And trust me, I’m a trading company employee, I’ve seen some shit.”

“Heh. You’re welcome.”

“Using the peer pressure trick was so unfair, though. I could have done without audience engagement strategies.”

“Desperate measures for desperate times.”

“Ah? Were you that desperate for my forgiveness?”

He frowned. “It’s just an expression, okay?!”

“Yeah, sure.” Itaru laughed. “…You really are quite something.”

“You’re a handful too, you know.”

“I know.” He attempted to draw a smug smile, but it soon faded out as he stalled in his steps, overcome with remorse. “I’m sorry. About, well, all that shit.”

“Hey, what’s the point of winning if you’re gonna apologize anyway?”

“Mm.” He covered his face with his hands, attempting to keep his heaving breath under control. The melting tension was threatening to spill from the corner of his eyes, and while the urge was strong, if he started sobbing in the middle of the street, it was all over for him. That shouldn’t be happening. He wasn’t a wimp, he was just… out of practice. It was just that the lack of stimulation during the past few years had made him extra susceptible to strong emotions. He was definitely not a crybaby.

“…Itaru-san?”

“We apologize for the inconvenience, but we are currently down for maintenance,” he managed to utter.

With a soft chuckle, Banri placed his warm hands over his chilly ones, gently pushing them down. “Look at me, come on.”

He couldn’t deny him twice. He let his hands slide down his face, praying that his eyes wouldn’t be too red or puffy, because they definitely stung enough to be very red and very puffy. Too embarrassed to look further up, he glanced at Banri’s lips, curled in a thin smile. He should say something. He hoped he’d be able to convey his thoughts without sounding like a desperate wuss, even though that was exactly what he felt like. It might be easier to give up and let the words spill as they formed in his mind. However, before he could even open his mouth, Banri headbutted him.

“Ow, fuck!” He groaned, clutching his forehead. “That hurt, you beast!”

“That’s what you get for pulling that shit on me.”

That was true. He deserved it, no way around it. The physical pain freed him of his self-imposed restraints, and he finally let the thick tears roll down his cheeks. He covered his face again, hiding it from the strangers rushing past them. If he couldn’t see them, then they couldn’t see him. If he couldn’t see them, they didn’t exist.

“Listen.” Banri wrapped an arm around his shoulder, pulling him in. “You won’t get rid of me that easily.”

Itaru wasn’t sure if he’d meant for that to sound reassuring or intimidating. It was a bit of both. No, it was the former; it was exactly what he needed to hear. Damn that mind reader. He turned to look at him between his fingers, wearing an expression somewhere between gratefulness and bewilderment.

“Geez, man, how long do you think I’ve known you? Now let’s go,” he commanded, taking a sharp turn and pulling Itaru with him.

He didn’t consider a few months was long enough to justify Banri’s eerily accurate grasp of his state of mind, but maybe his standards were wrong to begin with. Whatever. “The station’s that way,” he said, pointing 180 degrees away from their course.

“Screw the station, we’re going bowling.”

“Huh?”

“Then it’s karaoke all night long, and I’m not letting you escape. Let’s order some junk food whenever we get hungry.”

At that moment, he wasn’t in any condition to carry heavy bowling balls, or even sing, but he didn’t want to protest, either: he was glad they’d be able to stay together until their quarrel dissolved into nothing. He ceased resisting, content to let Banri drag him around once more, almost looking forward to weathering his endless teasing whenever he’d send a ball straight into the gutter.

“Banri.”

“Yeah?”

“You better win the next bet.”

Banri chuckled in his ear, messing his hair with slender fingers. “Will do.”


	12. Company

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, sorry for taking so long to update! It's already February 2019 even though it's still December 2017 in the story...  
> This chapter is long. And I mean loooooong. You might find it rather slow paced, too. I was tempted to scrap everything more than once, but I was told that a) the more material the better, and b) Cheese is Justice. Besides, redoing everything would have taken even longer, so in the end laziness trumped insecurity. おひたし、おひたし \o/  
> Enough idle talk. Hope you'll enjoy!

Itaru wanted to go home. That was by no means a novel concept, or a surprising one; however, he wanted to go home even more than he did on average. That Friday evening was an insult to all Friday evenings.

The corporate Christmas/end of the year/whatever party was as fun as one would expect it to be, though he couldn’t deny it excelled in the thrilling department: after being ambushed by one too many higher-ups, his legs felt rather stiff and shaky. That made a terrible combination with the muscle cramps that still lingered from the previous weekend’s skating adventure. He hoped none of that was showing on his face, but after over 14 hours of nonstop mandatory social interaction, his pleasing guise was close to breaking apart.

As he periodically sipped on the champagne glass, which he’d taken just to keep a hand occupied, he moved along the perimeter of the spacious hotel lounge—the center of the room was enemy territory—looking for a quiet, secluded corner. He was tired, he just wanted to sit down, or lean on a wall, or any surface, really, and play with his phone until it was socially acceptable to ditch the place. Of course, all the potential spots had been taken over by small groups, none of which he felt like engaging in conversation. He kept walking, and walking. Someone would catch him if he stopped.

For once, he wished he was back at the office. At least, he had a desk of his own, there. A place he was supposed to be. His sanctuary and torture chamber, all rolled into one. He’d rather be doing overtime to take care of the ungodly amount of work piling up during those busy dates; even that would be better than perpetually glide along the floor by himself, with no clear goal or destination in sight. That was awkward and tiring and a waste of perfectly good gaming time, be it directly or indirectly.

Well, there was no desk to retreat to, which meant Chikage was the next best option. He finally spotted him, surrounded by a few unknown faces: people working at another branch, he supposed. Of course, he had no intention to try mingling, so he chose to stay out of the way, making himself just visible enough for Chikage to notice. It didn’t take too long before he nodded at Itaru in acknowledgement, flashing a subtle smirk. He’d seen him. Nice. The rest of the night would be slightly less sucky.

“There we go! You’re not escaping this time, Chigasaki-kun!”

“Eh?” He turned around to face one of the senior employees. Dammit, back to the business smile. Just a bit longer. Just a bit longer! “Harada-san. Sorry, were you looking for me?”

“You’re good at making yourself scarce, aren’t you,” she jovially chided him as she rummaged into a plastic bag, one that looked menacingly full.

“Is that…?”

He peeked into the bag: it was filled with what seemed to be felt, red and brown felt, as well as a few white pompoms. That didn’t bode well. When his coworker finally brought her hand out, she was holding a headband decorated with plush reindeer antlers and ears. She motioned at him to bend down.

“I’m not sure these will look that cute on a grown man.” He made a troubled, apologetic expression, hoping it would be enough to get him off the hook. It didn’t seem to be working. He knew Chikage was witnessing the scene. What was he doing, why wasn’t he coming to the rescue? He was having lots of fun watching him suffer, wasn’t he?

“Nonsense. You’re still a child, to most of us.”

“Ouch.”

“You won’t be saying the same in a few years. Now crouch down, quick!” she insisted, hopping in excitement.

Itaru finally acquiesced and bent down, smiling at the floor, watching her tiptoe to reach the top of his head. He hoped he’d still be able to retain that sort of enthusiasm, at age fifty-something.

“Now that’s a good look for you!”

“I still doubt those were designed with dudes in their twenties in mind.”

“Bah, isn’t that part of the charm?” she countered with a wink.

He couldn’t help but chuckle. She really was onto something, there. “You may be right.”

“Of course I am. Okay, I’m off to spread some more holiday cheer.” She smiled, shaking the bag of goodies.

Itaru waved as she walked away, then readjusted the headband, making sure the antlers were pointing the right way. They weren’t so bad. He supposed he could keep them on for a little bit.

Back to his quest for a safe area. He’d lost sight of Chikage, which meant he had no choice but to start from scratch. The reindeer headband would act as the perfect lure to increase random encounters, but he didn’t want to take it off just yet. He pretended to rub his nose to hide a yawn, and kept on moving.

 

“Chigasaki, here.”

He’d been navigating the room for a few minutes when Chikage motioned at him from his choice spot: a secluded area next to the window walls, hidden by a bunch of potted ficus trees. It was sheltered enough that, hopefully, no one would dare to go out of their way to plant themselves there, unless they had specific and urgent business with them. Itaru had no idea how his senior had managed to secure that spot, but he’d be grateful for it all his life. Or, at least, until he chose to bully him again.

“Finally.” He undid the top buttons of his shirt and stretched next to Chikage, then grabbed his phone to start the stamina burning routine. “I was about to lose it.”

“Enjoying the evening, I see,” he chuckled, poking one of the antlers.

Itaru flashed him a painfully fake smile. “As much as you are.”

Chikage simply snorted as he set his eyes on the night skyline. “I can imagine. So? How’d it go with the heiress?”

“Oh, fantastic. She wanted to get the hell out of here just as much as I did.”

He couldn’t say he hadn’t been warned. However, that meeting had been foreshadowed many, many months ago, by a very drunk boss, drunk enough to let Itaru hope he wouldn’t know what was coming out of his mouth, and he’d been lulled into a false sense of security. When the selfsame boss had seized him earlier to introduce him to the president’s infamous daughter, all he could think was that had to be the punchline of a really bad brick joke. The worst.

Luckily for him, it was clear from the first moment that she’d rather be somewhere else, too, so they silently agreed to make it short and sweet and never speak of the matter again. He supposed that someone born in her position would be forced to meet potential suitors often enough to grow tired. Maybe her heart was already set on someone else, even. Maybe it was an aspiring musician who’d never made it past the subway exit, despite trying as hard as humanly possible. Maybe it was a rich scion, fated to inherit a company her family had cut ties with long ago. Maybe the unassuming childhood friend would win, in that scenario. He was mildly curious, but it didn’t mean anything to him, in any case. They exchanged a few words during the minimum required amount of time, apologized to each other for the trouble, and went on their not-so-merry way. He was satisfied with that ending, and the game had no replay value to him.

“They tried to set her up with me last year.”

He looked up at Chikage in disbelief, covering his mouth in an effort to suffocate a laugh. “No way. Are you for real? How much do you even need to hate your own kid to allow something like that…?”

“Careful, Chigasaki. Remember I still have a lot of dirt on you.”

“Yeah, yeah. But come on, I mean… you of all people! Ahahaha!”

“Not that I disagree, ultimately, but you’re starting to piss me off.”

“Sorry, sorry.”

“Nice shirt, by the way.”

“You think?” He struck a pose, admiring his reflection on the windowpane. He liked the way the dim lights set on the smooth material. “Afraid I can’t use it to buy your silence, though. I borrowed it from a friend,” he declared, feeling somewhat proud of the fact.

“It’s not exactly my style. Why are you bragging, anyway?”

Was he bragging? He was, wasn’t he? Maybe it was something worth bragging about. He looked at the night lights through the glass, and wondered if Banri would still be online once he made it home. He’d better be there, since they might not have many chances to play together that weekend, especially on Sunday. Popular guys had better things to do on the 24th. He figured that, at that point, Banri must have been asked out by like twenty classmates, a few college students, at least one married woman, his hair stylist, and the employees from whichever shops dealt in those ugly clothes of his. He had no idea where he’d choose to go, or who would be beside him, but there was no way he’d spend his Christmas Eve in front of his computer, playing with a lonely salaryman.

Maybe, from then on, they wouldn’t be playing together as often.

He wanted to go home so badly. He wanted to, but even if he said it out loud, Chikage wouldn’t understand just how much, he wouldn’t, so he said the next thing that came to mind instead.

“He’s put me in a bind, though. Turns out it’s 100% silk, can you believe it? How the hell do you wash silk without ruining it?”

“You take it to the dry cleaner, like you do with everything else.”

“Senpai…” Itaru made a face. It wasn’t his fault the washing machine had been broken for a year, and that he was too lazy to call for repairs and deal with whoever showed up, and that the water was too cold to wash manually. Well, maybe part of the responsibility was indeed his. But either way, he felt like punishing Chikage for that remark, so he grabbed the reindeer headband and planted it on his head.

He took a step back to admire his work, enjoying Chikage’s murderous look. It was quite the look. Of course, it couldn’t compare to the face he’d made that one time at a party, when a drunk client tried to sit on his lap, but he’d still rate it 79 out of 100. Had they been 2D characters, he was sure his glasses would have cracked there.

“And what is this supposed to be?”

“Ever heard of gap moe?”

“Yes, Chigasaki, you’ve made sure of it.”

“Good,” he beamed.

 

The antlers had been back on Itaru’s head for a while when they agreed it was late enough to leave. Some untimely colleagues got in their way, insisting they stay a bit longer. No, not happening, absolutely not. Chikage weaved a delightfully fictitious tale about how they needed to get up early to go play one of their regular tennis matches. Oh, did they play at one of the nearby clubs? No, they were using some private grounds owned by a mutual friend of theirs, conveniently away from prying eyes. Indeed, nothing like exercising in the clean, delicious morning air. Uh huh. Senpai had won the last match, and he wasn’t letting it happen again, so he needed to turn in early to wake up in top condition. Of course. Have a nice Christmas Eve, and see you next Monday.

Once the elevator’s doors closed, Itaru released the laughter he’d been holding.

“Tennis? Really? Please,” he wheezed.

“Why, it fits your princely image, doesn’t it?” Chikage replied with a devilish smile. “I’m sure you’ve played enough M�rio Tennis to get a grasp of the basics.”

“Don’t overestimate my abilities, Senpai. Nothing good will come out of it.”

“It would still be fun to watch you try.”

“Bully.”

“Won’t deny that.”

“Heh.” He leaned on the metal walls, momentarily flinching at the cold touch. “What about you, ever played it? M�rio Tennis.”

“Nah.”

“You’re missing out.”

“I never had the resources for a console as a kid.”

“…Oh.” He cast his eyes down, at a loss for words. He’d never been good at dealing with those heavy topics. Knowing Chikage, it could have just been another lie to get a reaction out of him—and he’d succeeded, in that case. But there was no guarantee. ‘Knowing’ and ‘Chikage’ were two words that didn’t look too comfortable next to each other, at least in that order. “It’s never too late, though. You can borrow my old—”

“Thanks but no thanks. Not interested.”

“Wouldn’t hurt to be a bit more agreeable from time to time,” he pouted.

“I am when it matters.”

“Pretend it matters right now.”

“Do you need it?”

Chikage’s expression wasn’t particularly gentle, but there was no judgment, no cunning in his eyes. It looked like a genuine question, and Itaru was sorely tempted to tell him that yes, he needed it, that he’d been spending the whole week fearing that an overhyped holiday would take away the little happiness he’d found, and that he very much needed an act of kindness at that moment, even if it was a small one.

“I…” No. No, he did not. He’d been through worse, and Chikage had already seen enough of his whiny side. He’d be okay. He was fine with his lot. Time to use the remnants of his energy for the last charming smile of the night. “I think I’ll make do without. I know it wouldn’t come free of charge.”

“I see.” For a moment, it seemed like Chikage was rather dissatisfied with his answer, but after one blink he was back to his usual sly smile. Might have just been the lighting. “How’s your weekend looking, then? Planning to share a cake with that 2D girlfriend of yours? It might be a good idea to keep a cloth on hand to wipe the cream off the screen.”

He saw red. He launched himself at Chikage. It was an act of pure impulse, all he knew was that those words had hurt like hell, and he wanted to get even. He wanted to punch the air out of his lungs, stick his hand in his chest and squeeze his heart until he couldn’t bear it anymore, it didn’t matter. But no hit ever landed, and it was only when he was pinned against the elevator walls, arms restrained, that he realized what he’d just done. Fuck. That would be a great moment to disintegrate.

“Well, that was disappointingly easy. Rather unusual for you to react like this to a low effort taunt.”

He looked to the side, trying to get away from that voice and from his own shame. “Sorry. It’s been a rough week.”

“Rough week, huh.”

“Yes.”

“And that’s all, I take it.”

“Yes. Sorry.”

“Right,” Chikage sighed. “Apparently, the first time wasn’t enough, so I’ll say it again: you’re not a bad liar, but you won’t get anything past me. Focus your efforts elsewhere.”

Itaru craned his neck to meet his senior’s cold, probing eyes. Was he actually capable of seeing through him? What did he see, exactly? How much? He wouldn’t win in a full-blown staring contest, that was painfully obvious, but he’d try not to back away from it. So he held his gaze, masking his distress with what he hoped was a defiant look. Nothing would get past him? Good. If he was indeed able to read his thoughts, he could take those. He could allow himself that one outlet.

_I’m tired of pouring love on a bunch of pixels and getting nothing back. I want someone to look at me, too. I want to be that someone’s number one, that person’s first priority. I want to know I won’t be thrown away again, because it sucks, it fucking sucks._

_You can hear this, can’t you?_

_Please help me._

He did it. He’d finally been honest with himself. It had taken a great deal of effort, he was exhausted, and he so wished he could just drop right there and wait for somebody to carry him home, but Chikage didn’t seem to be up for it. He just kept looking at him in silence, burning a hole into him, as if daring him to repeat everything, this time out loud. But Itaru wasn’t up for that, either. Voicing it required climbing a few more ranks in courage, still.

Either way, Chikage wouldn’t budge, and he was getting nervous. Could he please, please say something? He didn’t know why he was even surprised: if there was something predictable about Chikage, it was that he would always, without fail, do the contrary of what Itaru wished he would.

The silence was beyond uncomfortable, and he felt it was his cue to break it. He’d sound like a loony if he asked whether he’d received his eye beam S.O.S.; like a desperate, reaching loony, but he couldn’t think of much else to say. It wasn’t like he actually expected that silent confession to have made any difference. Still, he wondered what it would be like, if it had somehow reached him. Stranger things had happened. What if he’d been heard? What if he was willing to help?

What if…?

The elevator made a soft ding, announcing they’d arrived to their desired floor, and Chikage pulled away. When the doors opened, he stepped out, just like that, and Itaru was left standing there, numb and speechless.

Well, there was his answer. That was what he got for trying to open up to—

“Come on, Chigasaki. This is the ground floor.”

He offered him a hand, and Itaru held onto it, the closest thing he had to a lifeline at that moment. _Maybe he does care, after all_ , he thought as Chikage yanked him out of the metal cage. Maybe the world was kinder than he’d imagined. However, that feeling only lasted until the doors closed in on him, trapping him in place for a few seconds. The blow was just as nasty as Chikage’s triumphant smirk. That whole bit about putting some trust in him? He retracted the offer.

“Ugh, dammit,” he grumbled, fixing his coat while scanning the mercifully empty lobby.

“Nice timing.”

“Yeah,” he groaned again. “It seems my uncool side loves to make an appearance whenever you’re around, Senpai. I wonder why there’s a direct correlation.”

“That’s fine. I like it better than the phony prince, anyway,” he replied, ignoring the last part.

“More blackmail material, huh?” Itaru only got a faint breathy laugh as a response. “I thought you’d be like, ‘you have no cool side to begin with, Chigasaki,’” he added, mimicking his senior’s voice.

“That goes without saying. Also, this impression of me could use some polishing.”

“I’ll add that to the to-do list, right at the bottom.”

They made their way out discussing task management, their office, and the aforementioned blackmail material, and Itaru found himself smiling. As much as his ornery colleague loved to scare him, he’d never acted out on any of his threats, had he. They’d known each other long enough to believe it would stay that way. He wanted to believe he’d be safe around him. Opening up to colleagues was a way worse idea—and way harder—than opening up to strangers on the internet, but he thought that maybe he’d be able to do that, one day. One day they might be able to call each other friends.

“Um, Chikage-san.” His senior turned around, eyebrows slightly raised. “Merry Christmas, I guess.”

He gave a low chuckle. “You can tell me that on Monday. If you survive the weekend, that is.”

“I plan to.”

“Good. See you, then.”

They parted ways two blocks from the hotel. Itaru waved and stood in silence for a few moments, watching Chikage’s tall frame walk away. _Banri’s around the same height._

Ah. He remembered what he’d been dreading, and the fact it was inching closer by the hour. He didn’t want the 24th to come.

If Banri had been a bit more like him, maybe they could have spent the evening playing together, pretending it was just another Sunday. Or maybe they could have done some in-game Christmas event, or wasted time doing a jumping puzzle, or made fun of normie guildmates for going out on dates instead of improving their ranks and parses. The activity didn’t matter much, as long as they were both there. Too bad Banri wasn’t like him.

Something buzzed in his pocket.

_still partyin it up with the old geezers?_  
_just get home already_  
_got a new rotation to test out_

He grinned at the phone screen, his gloom and weariness clearing out as if by magic. It was alarming how much his mood was affected by a few texts from some cheeky brat, but he was too busy looking forward to their play session to care. He hoped he wouldn’t find too many red lights on the way home. Yeah, his Christmas Eve would still suck ass, but he supposed he could put his fears aside for a bit longer.

_omw_

 

→→→

 

“…I grew up watching the Masked Driver series, so whenever I think I’ll be able to be part of its legacy…” The young man chuckled, his plain, gentle features glowing under the studio’s bright lights. “It’s like a dream come true, really.”

“You’ve got multiple years of experience on stage, but this is your first role on TV. What’s the most challenging part of adapting to the new format?”

“Hmmm. I suppose it doesn’t change much, at the end of the day. Theater is a living thing, raw and ever-changing, isn’t it? Haha… At first I was afraid doing multiple takes would, how to put it? Suck that quality out of it, but it wasn’t the case. At the core, when filming, we’re still acting. We’re acting live, at that moment, and no two takes will ever be the same. Of course, we won’t be able to show any variations to the audience, but that’s no different from attending a single performance, is it?”

“Well, we might get some bloopers with the BD release, if nothing else.”

“Ahaha! That would be a bit embarrassing… I do miss having a live audience, though. It gets lonely in front of the camera sometimes.”

“Well, we don’t have that problem here, do we?” The host pointed a grin at the audience, prompting a ‘nooo’ chorus from the seats. Itaru groaned from his couch. Why was he even watching that show? Right, boredom. Boredom worked miracles sometimes. “Speaking of challenge, the character you play has a certain peculiarity.”

“Yes!”

“What is it like to play a mute character?”

“First of all, I suppose I’m lucky that wasn’t his condition since early childhood. Instead, he lost his voice because of a certain incident…”

“Do I smell spoilers?”

“Haha, maybe! You’ll have to wait and see. But the same way it happened to him this late in life, it could happen to me, too. It makes it so much easier to put myself in his shoes. Like, how would I react in that situation…? I’m not sure I’d have been able to portray him correctly, otherwise.”

“I’m sure you’d have done great. So I take it you are your own worst critic, as far as your performance is concerned?”

“I like to think so. I’ve been told I do well at pantomime, so this role is a great opportunity for me, a chance to test how far I can go when conveying emotions using nothing but gestures. And I want to make sure I don’t disappoint those who believe in me, those who’ve helped me get this far. I want to give it my all. Hmm, I suppose I might be getting a few close-ups, too, so I’ll have to put extra effort on facial expressions…”

“…Which means you slack off on stage?”

“No, of course not!” he laughed. “Please don’t tease me like that.”

“If you ever tried, my sources tell me your second worst critic would give you a good talking to.”

“I’m sure he would,” he replied with another gentle chuckle. “And I’d do the same, in his shoes. I feel like I don’t appreciate it as much as I should, since I’m used to it, it’s always been like this… but I’m really fortunate to have him around. Someone to share a passion with, someone who’ll push me to become better and better every day. We often—”

Someone to share a passion with. Pushing each other to improve. That should be against the rules. Itaru had avoided getting online all day for a reason, and that was precisely to spare himself the comments reminding him that his default party mate was off doing better things, and that he was spending the evening solo. Who had allowed that perfect stranger on the TV to launch a homing missile his way? What an insolent individual.

“I see you’re as much of a workaholic as the rumors have it. However, even the most diligent of professionals are allowed to have a private life, aren’t they? Tell us, any plans for tonight?”

“Eh? Tonight?”

“It’s Christmas Eve, after all!”

“Chri…” The young actor made a confused expression, followed by one of realization, and mouthed something that could have been a ‘that’s why.’

“Oh? Looks like you do have some plans! Care to share with—”

“Aaah, yeah, shut up, shut up, just shut the fuck up.” Itaru grabbed the remote and promptly switched the channel before throwing it back on the couch. The last thing he wanted to hear about was someone else’s Christmas date.

Still… Masked Driver Q, huh. He should check that one out at some point. Those series had been a big part of his childhood, too, and he felt a strange sort of sympathy towards that actor. Might have been due to them being around the same age, but he believed they could have gotten along in another universe. Yeah, even with the unintentional personal attacks.

The new channel had about fifteen girls singing and dancing on stage in perfect sync. He didn’t know the group, or the song. It didn’t matter. At least, if asked, those girls would lie and say they had no special plans for the evening. That was what their fans wanted to hear, and wouldn’t you know, that was exactly what he needed to hear, too. They could all shut their eyes together and be happy.

He’d just grind a rank or two on GGF and be happy.

And that was exactly what he did, with the background noise of the TV keeping him company, until he got a LIME message from a certain Neo guy. He wanted to ignore him at first, as a little act of vengeance, but the urge to interact was too strong, and he caved in a matter of seconds.

_where are you_  
_you arent online_  
_you home?_

_well, what do you think?_

_i think you are_

_bingo :D_  
_you know_  
_i didn’t expect to hear from you today_  
_not so early, at least_  
_how badly did your date suck?_  
_or was it just a businesslike quickie, gg no re?_

_what date lol_  
_anyway ill be there in 45 so you better get ready_

He glanced at the clock, a huge smile lighting up his face. So he had until 8 p.m. to do absolutely nothing, and then it was showtime.

…Okay, he might wait until 8:07 or so. He didn’t want to be the first to log in.

 

→

 

It was nearly 8 o’clock when, out of the blue, the doorbell rang. Itaru groggily sat up and shot an annoyed look at the two preppy boys on the TV, but they just kept singing their saccharine sweet love song while strumming their acoustic guitars. As he rubbed his right temple, he let out a long, broken groan. Whoever was on the other side of the door had a terrible sense of timing.

He was obviously not expecting anyone, and he hated surprise visits with a passion. Maybe he’d ordered some delivery food between naps, and had forgotten about it. If it was food, he wouldn’t even be mad. That would have been a nice move from his barely conscious self. Nah, too good to be true. It wouldn’t be delivery food, he was pretty sure.

The doorbell rang again. Thrice.

“Yeah, I’m coming, I’m coming!” he grumbled. People seriously needed to get acquainted with the concept of patience.

He opened the door, and saw an apparition.

“Yo.” Banri made a lazy greeting gesture from the other side.

Itaru closed the door and, for a few seconds, stared in shock at nothing in particular, until he was woken up by an angry fist banging on the poor door.

“Hey, what the hell! Let me in!”

He opened again, simply because he judged it a less troublesome option than having a teenage delinquent yelling at his door for all the neighbors to hear. Then, he shot a blank look at Banri, who responded with a wide grin.

“That’s cute,” he said, reaching out to tug on the tuft of hair that were Itaru’s tied up bangs.

“Wh… How…?”

“Ah, yeah. You sent me a pic when your Sacchi nendo arrived, remember?” Right. He’d done that. “Got the address from the package.”

Those were some unforeseen circumstances, so unforeseen that he wasn’t even prepared to find the words to convey his surprise, and thus he just went along with whatever Banri said. “You could read that?”

“Phone camera OP.”

“No, I mean, I thought it would get resized.”

“Clearly not enough. Now let me in.”

He frowned at the unsolicited guest, wondering how to approach the situation. He sort of wanted to throw him out, still. He needed to rush, as an online buddy of his was awaiting his arrival. An online buddy who happened to be standing right in front of him. No, not everything had to make sense. Life was full of contradictions, and lately those contradictions had been building a gigantic hive in his brain, as it seemed.

“Itaru-san, it’s cold outside.”

“Ah.” Now that he was recovering from the surprise, he definitely felt the chill seeping in. While he didn’t want anyone defiling his holy haven, he didn’t have much of a choice. He stepped aside, but not before making a weak attempt at shit talk. “Curb those stalker vibes, though, will you.”

His guest took his shoes off and nimbly pushed them into place with a bare foot: perfectly symmetrical to each other, perfectly aligned with the tiles on the floor. “Hey, you sent that picture willingly.”

“Yeah, but that’s still—”

“I figured you’d have been more careful when sharing, if you really minded me knowing where you live,” he reasoned, yet another satisfied smirk on his face.

He shrugged. Banri had a point. “It could’ve been my parents’ house, though.”

“Yeah, I considered that.”

“Would’ve been a fun trick… Actually, scratch that, the mere thought is giving me the willies.”

“Heh. You don’t want them meeting me, or you don’t want me meeting them?”

“Both.” But especially the first. They’d ask too many questions.

“Anyway, it’s you we’re talking about,” Banri continued. “You’d want the goods as soon as possible, at your doorstep, no middlemen.”

“True.”

“So it had to be your place. You’re too stingy to pay for express delivery otherwise.”

Itaru snorted. “Okay, okay, you win, Great Detective Neo-kun. Make yourself at home, or whatever they say in these situations.”

He let himself drop back on the couch, taking his phone to fiddle with whatever app he’d last opened. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Banri explore his apartment, navigating the living room through the many obstacles that littered the floor. It was an unexpected sight, but not an entirely unwelcome one. Which meant it wasn’t entirely welcome, either. _Why is he even here?_

“Nice pad, by the way. Did someone drop a bomb here?”

“If you’ve just come to rate my place, you can turn around right now. You’re smart enough to find the exit by yourself.”

Banri flat out ignored him. “Oh, there she is,” he said, looking at the newest addition in Sacchi’s glass case. “That’s quite the collection.”

“Technically, you’re here thanks to her, so you better be grateful.”

“Yeah, yeah. Good job, Sacchi.” He patted the display case with his free hand.

Wait. Free hand?

At that moment, he noticed the brightly colored box hanging from Banri’s fingers. Reindeers again. Golden reindeers on red cardboard with a satin finish. In the back of his mind, his gaming senses screamed _that’s a flag_ , but he didn’t hear. “Hold on. You didn’t bring a motherfucking _Christmas cake_ , did you?”

“So what if I did?” he shrugged.

“Unbelievable.”

“I tried to bring champagne, too, but I got carded.”

“GG.”

“‘Kay then, where’s the fridge?”

He pointed the way, then went back to doing nothing on his phone, somewhat stupefied. Banri had just showed up at his place unannounced. Banri was in his kitchen. Banri had brought a Christmas cake. That cake was making its way to his fridge. Surreal. Today was actually Christmas Eve, right? He was pretty sure he hadn’t mistaken the date. Ah, whatever, there was no need for everything to follow his idea of logic. He should just hurry up and admit he was happy for the visit.

“Itaru-san, there’s nothing here. Like, absolutely nothing,” Banri’s voice came from the kitchen.

“I never said there’d be anything, so you have no right to complain.” Besides, Banri was wrong. He had enough cup noodles to last him a month.

The voice came closer. “I’m hungry, though.”

“Same.”

“So what then, wanna go eat out?”

Itaru, still lying on the couch, angled his head up from the phone, and was met with Banri’s upside down face peering at him.

“What are you, mad? It’s Christmas Eve.”

“There’s bound to be a free table somewhere,” the upside down boy said.

He let go of the phone and rolled over, propping himself up on his elbows.

“Even then, this is the worst day to go out.”

“Why?”

“It’s _Christmas Eve_. If we are together, they’ll think we are a, you know. Like… like that.”

“A couple?”

“Yeah. That.”

“Do we look like one?” Banri asked, eyebrows raised.

Itaru rested his chin on his palms, pondering his answer. Saying yes would be bad for obvious reasons, but saying no would give Banri ammo to force him to go out.

“Anyway, I don’t feel like going out. Too lazy.”

Banri sighed and went back to the kitchen to resume the food hunt. Itaru let him be.

“Oh, you have eggs in the fridge. Want some fried eggs?”

Eggs. Eggs and cup noodles? He had a brilliant idea.

 

→

 

“Shit. This didn’t turn out as well as I expected.”

“What the hell were you trying to make here, even?” Banri laughed over his shoulder, watching the misshapen scrambled eggs slowly sink into the instant ramen broth.

“Shut up, I did what I could. If you want a better one, get me a real zu egg.”

“I don’t think we live in the right universe for that.”

“Sadly.”

 

→

 

“This tastes better than it looks.”

“Ha. And then they say video games don’t teach you life skills.”

They sat in front of the TV, savoring Itaru’s (borrowed) special egg cup noodle recipe. In the background, a few familiar voices sang an unfamiliar song. He had no idea how to be a good host, but doing the usual stuff seemed to be working well enough. Eating instant ramen. Watching TV. Maybe they could play a bit, later. Yeah, that would be fine.

“…And when the clock strikes midnight, don’t forget to check out the new limited gacha box, Miracle☆Snow❄Wonderland♪, featuring Otohana Sachiko as the Ultra Rare card!” the peppy voice actress beamed. “Moreover, to accompany the release of the new single, all users will—”

“Hold on, Sacchi’s getting a new limited and I’m only finding out now?” He frowned at the screen. That was a bad sign.

“You’ve been slacking off.”

“I’ve been busy.” They both knew he would have made time for it, if he cared enough. He felt that strange weight in his stomach again.

“Gimme your account if you’re tired of the game.”

“Keep dreaming.”

“I had to give it a shot, y’know.”

Then, the TV showed a picture of his Sacchi in a snow fairy dress, diamond white, delicately translucent, and he fell in love all over again. His sunshine, his angel was back, gifting him once again that smile that had been his only source of healing for over two years. How did he ever have the nerve to doubt his feelings for her? He was such a disappointment. Sacchi deserved better than that. He hoped she’d be able to forgive him, because he was determined to earn her forgiveness no matter what.

“…I’m rolling until she comes home.”

“Knew you’d say that,” Banri chuckled. “Damn, Mii-tan’s cute though.”

“Who or what is Mii-tan?”

“ _She_ is Mii-tan!” he exclaimed, pointing at the young woman on the screen. “You don’t even know who voices your main girl?”

“Why would I?”

“Dunno, thought you’d care.”

“Why would you assume I care about 2.5D shit?”

“You’re in deeper than I thought,” Banri cackled, then threw the remote his way. “Here. Find something that’s more to your taste, then.”

 

They ended up switching to video games: some cartoonish race game this time, competitive yet lighthearted. Was that fitting enough to entertain a guest? Itaru hoped so. As the initial credits were displayed, however, he realized he only had one controller and had a mini panic attack. Thankfully, it only lasted until he noticed Banri plugging in a second one. Which he’d gotten from… where, exactly?

“You brought your own?”

“Nah, took it from your PC.”

“…Oh.” Fuck. He’d forgotten about that one. “Wait, who gave you permission to break into my room?”

Banri took a seat on the floor, his back against the couch. “The door was open. Anyway, you should buy a new one soon, moving this one around whenever I come is gonna get old fast.”

He only half-listened to whatever he was saying and responded with a grunt. Banri had been one-upping him ever since he’d crossed the door into his apartment—or since before that, even—and he was getting miffed. As it appeared, the game wasn’t going any better, and he seriously didn’t need to hear Banri’s gloating whenever he took first place, on top of everything else. So when he was going for his third victory, Itaru swung a leg across his lap, _accidentally_ pushing the joystick with his foot and sending Banri’s car out of the track and into the void.

“Oh. My bad.”

“Why you…!” Banri immediately sat up and wrested the controller out of his hands, very deliberately driving his car off the edge to return the favor. “There. Now we’re even.”

“I hate this track. It’s awful,” he said between laughs as he watched his car disappear into the space beyond.

“Not as much as you hate watching me run ahead of you, huh,” Banri replied with a playful shove.

Itaru returned the gesture. “Don’t touch me, you delinquent.”

No matter how hard they tried to catch up after respawning, an NPC snatched the win from under their noses, causing them to pin the blame on each other in mock outrage. He couldn’t deny that he was having a good time, but their snappy voices soon died out and he was left with nothing but that weird feeling of remorse he’d been getting acquainted with lately. Was Banri actually having fun, there? By then, he’d gotten used to the idea of him occupying his apartment. He no longer felt the urge to throw him out. However, the idea that he shouldn’t be there remained.

Once out of his brooding trip, he realized his guest had run ahead of him yet again. That round was looking to be another awful one.

“Tch. Looks like I can’t beat you today if I don’t resort to cheating.”

Banri decelerated and shot him a look, a slight frown marring his features. “What’s wrong?”

“Hm, nothing?”

“Yeah,right. I know there’s something bothering you, you’re being kinda obvious.”

“Oh. I guess I’m mad at my own performance, then.” He’d had enough of his mind reading powers last week. Would he please stop probing him?

“Nah, it’s something else. You’re not being yourself today.”

No chance, huh. “Of course I am. Sorry to disappoint, but I’ve always been this dark and gloomy character.”

He snorted. “Nah. It’s like, dunno, like you’ve already given up. You sound defeated.”

“Lies and slander. My will to beat your sorry ass is intact, as it has always been.” Itaru hoped his mask wasn’t too thin.

“Suuure.” Banri wasn’t having it. “Whatever. I’m waiting, then.”

Itaru knew he couldn’t, or rather shouldn’t, go on like that. He pressed his lips together, focusing all he could on the race. He perfectly remembered the best angle to take each curve, how to deal with each obstacle without losing speed. Easy stuff. Once he’d managed to summon a bit of his so-called usual self, it didn’t take long until they were neck to neck again.

“There we go. Thanks for waiting.”

Banri laughed through his nose. “Slowpoke.”

“Give me a break, I’m old and tired.”

“Itaru-san, you’re twenty-four.”

“Old and tired.”

That burst of confidence didn’t last too long. Competing with Banri was as fun as always, that much was a given, and yet he wasn’t able to fully enjoy it because of that crappy amalgam of restlessness, inadequacy, guilt. If there was some sort of cheat code to get rid of it, he wanted it. Or simply a way to go back to his initial state. He’d spend some good money on that, he would, because playing like that sucked. It beyond sucked, and he wasn’t the only one thinking that way.

“For real, dunno what’s holding you back, but quit it. It’s boring as fuck to play like this.”

“Okay.” He dropped the controller and curled up on the couch, not even flinching when his car got rammed from behind. He was so done with everything, and most of all himself.

“Er.” Banri sounded rather taken aback. “Itaru-san, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Mm.”

He wondered how badly he’d just fucked up. Second time screwing the pooch in less than 48 hours. Wow, that was one sad new record. Maybe Banri would get fed up and leave for real that time. It might be for the best. There was no conceivable reason for him to stay confined in a dirty apartment playing video games when he could be out there, hanging out with better people. _Get the fuck out of here and go live your life to the fullest_ , he wanted to yell. _Please stay with me_. Oh, for fuck’s sake.

After a few moments of silence, Banri started prodding him with a searching finger. “So, will you tell me what’s eating you?”

“No.”

“Just a hint then, c’mon.”

“No.”

He groaned. “Why you always gotta be so goddamn difficult…?”

“I thought you enjoyed the challenge.”

With a sigh, Banri dropped down on the couch, occupying almost the whole length with his body, and started nudging Itaru with a foot. “Y’know, you’re worse than a little kid. Even little kids are more cooperative.”

“I know.”

He kept on nudging him. “‘Kay, listen to this, at least. I didn’t mean it’s boring to play with you, you hear? That was just… I was just trying to get a reaction out of you. Just to get things moving.”

“Mm.” He shifted a little bit, letting a few seconds pass as he tried to untangle the knot in his stomach. “Banri…”

“Yeah?”

“Are you sure you should be here right now?”

He shrugged. “Where else should I be?”

“Why did you come, anyway?”

Banri sat up, still taking way more space than strictly necessary. “I just came to hang out. I was bored, and you weren’t logging, so.”

“Bored, you say. I feel bad for your date.”

“What date, I told you there was no date!”

“Honestly, though. Didn’t you have anyone better to spend the evening with?”

“Nope.”

Itaru shot him a skeptical glare. “Hmm.”

“Oh come on, what’s with this reaction?” he asked with a quiet snicker.

“Hmmmmm.”

“Fuck’s sake, I told you last time, didn’t I? Can’t be arsed with this dating stuff.”

“Wasn’t that just a white lie?”

“Why would I lie about that? There was no date, Itaru-san. You made that shit up yourself.”

“Then where were you all day?” He flinched at his own accusing tone.

“Spending some quality time with my bed ‘till I got up, then I went online and waited all day for you to show yourself. Which didn’t happen.”

“Really.”

“Yeah, really. Want me to find the randoms I partied up with? Want me to ask them to testify?”

Itaru looked away, ashamed of his unwarranted display of jealousy. He wasn’t a kid, dammit, and that attitude would end up driving Banri away. What was Banri to him, to begin with? Was he his anything? It wasn’t like they had a deal stating they owed each other company, they were both free individuals, and, if anything, he should be mad at himself for all the hours he’d made them both waste while he was busy self-pitying. He definitely was an idiot. “No need.”

He felt a decidedly self-confident presence looming over him, and a finger started prodding him again. “Hey, Itaru-san, were you afraid someone would steal me away? Itaru-san, were you?” His voice betrayed the cocky grin on his face, a cocky grin that said _I know I’m right on the money_ , even though he was halfway off the mark. Itaru batted the hand away, but it kept coming and coming. “Itaru-san, you were, weren’t you?” Prod, prod. “You know, that’s kinda cute.”

He buried his face in a cushion. “Fuck you!”

“Remember what I said last week? You’re not getting rid of me.” He switched to pinching his exposed cheek. “I’m having way too much fun with you.”

That made Itaru peek out from his hiding place. “Yeah, right.”

“Yeah. I like it here, it’s comfy. Also, those noodles were the nastiest shit I’ve ever had, but they were delicious.”

He hid a budding smile with his arm. “Heh. No need for lip service, you know.”

Banri groaned yet again. “First white lies, now lip service. The hell do you take me for?”

“A good boy who takes others’ feelings into consideration?”

“As if,” he said, cheeks reddening. “What’s so weird about spending Christmas Eve with your mates, anyway? Never done that before?”

 

←←←

 

<taruchi> everyone’s off on a xmas date or talking about how their date went or how they’re going on a date soon  
<taruchi> and it’s pissing me off  
<taruchi> they can all burn  
<Lemonmon> This is not good, Taruchi!  
<Lemonmon> In my country, when you complain about other people happiness, you are cursed to become a jelly fish  
<taruchi> lmao what the hell  
<taruchi> doesn’t sound too bad though  
<taruchi> no obligations, no worries  
<taruchi> just floating around stinging whoever gets on your wrong side  
<taruchi> ez life  
<taruchi> i want to be a jellyfish  
<Lemonmon> But then you cannot play with me with wet tentacles :(  
<taruchi> that sounds lewder than it has any right to  
<Lemonmon> Oh!  
<Lemonmon> I have one idea  
<Lemonmon> I will be your Christmas!  
<taruchi> heh  
<taruchi> i’m afraid that line only works for valentines  
<Lemonmon> Oh… Japanese so difficult…  
<taruchi> but you know what, i kinda like this idea of yours  
<taruchi> be my christmas for tonight, lemony <3  
<Lemonmon> Mission acknowledged! o7

Lemon ran in circles around the garden, bright red sparkler in hand. Once it fizzled out, he switched to a green one, ran and jumped a bit more, then used one of those folk dance emotes he seemed to love so much.

<Lemonmon> Dance with me :D

Itaru did as he was asked. He stood in front of his friend, who had lit yet another sparkler, and mimicked his dance. They were completely out of sync, they weren’t even going in the same direction, and at times they glitched into each other, but he was having fun like that, watching their characters fool around on the screen.

They danced and danced and danced. They used up the fireworks that had been littering their inventories. They sat under a tree and talked about nothing and everything through a bunch of in-game day cycles. It wasn’t that different from what they did on the average day, but on that cold December night, it felt special, somehow. He hoped that, one day, they’d be able to do the same in real life.

 

→→→

 

“…Mm. Guess I have.” How long had it been since then, three years? Maybe four? It didn’t matter. It stung just as much as if it had happened the previous day, so he’d rather redirect his thoughts somewhere else before it was too late.

“Sooo, how about that cake?”

Nice. That worked. “Right, I’ll get something to wash it down, then. No champagne, though.”

He got up to rummage through a forgotten cupboard, finally picking up a bottle of liquor he’d gotten a while ago. A gift from a client with money to spare, most likely. He had no idea what it tasted like, and he was aware he shouldn’t be serving any of that to a teenager, but hey, it might be fun to pretend they had something to celebrate. Perhaps, deep down, he also hoped they’d be able to forget about his tantrum once they were both tipsy. He grabbed a couple glasses, made his way back, and snickered at Banri’s attempt to get a hold of the bottle.

“Easy there. That’s an adult’s job.” He sat down, placed both glasses on the low coffee table, and poured Banri a tiny amount.

“Oh come on, pour me some more.”

“This dose is enough for a high schooler.”

“I can hold my alcohol better than you.”

“Maybe you do, but I happen to be over twenty and you are not.”

“Who gives a shit about that.”

“Laws do.”

“Well I don’t give a shit about laws!”

Itaru chuckled. “Wow, get a load of this anarchist.” He poured him a bit more. Just a tiny bit. He knew Banri would get his way in the end, regardless of the method, but he had to stand his ground. For the sake of appearances, if nothing else.

“Says the one offering drinks to a high schooler.”

“One more smartass comment and I’m emptying your glass in the sink.”

“Then I’ll drink from yours.”

He sighed. “At least you’re not threatening to drink from the bottle.”

 

The following hours were spent savoring the magnificent strawberry shortcake—the marzipan Santa soon met a gruesome end—, overtaking each other while taking curves at the highest possible speed, and, in Itaru’s case, trying to find a balance between his duty to look out for Banri’s health and the urge to spoil him each time he asked for another glass. All in all, the evening turned out okay, despite everything. He wasn’t sure whether it was thanks to the clearer atmosphere or the alcohol setting in, but the world definitely seemed a little brighter than before.

“The name rings a bell,” Itaru said, squinting at the letters on the red cardboard. “This is some famous cake shop, isn’t it?”

“Is it? Guess that explains the crowd.”

“Don’t tell me you stood in line for one.”

“Hell no. Parents reserved one, then they decided they were spending Christmas at a theme park instead. Look.”

Banri whipped out his phone and showed him a picture of his mom and dad wearing Mockey Mouse ears in front of a brightly lit Christmas tree. There were too many strangers around, and they had to huddle to fend away the cold, but they looked so happy together. Stupid happy couples on their stupid Christmas dates.

“I can’t imagine how much fun they must be having dashing through the icy cold wind on a high speed roller coaster.”

“They’re crazy enough to try. Anyway, the cake was already paid for, so they told me to go get it, share it with whoever I wanted and all that stuff.”

“And then you came to me?” He laughed. “Can’t believe my hot Christmas date is a dude, and one that wouldn’t even look good in a dress, to boot.”

Banri flashed his trademark taunting smirk. “I’d look great in a dress if I damn pleased to wear one.”

Itaru snorted, positive that his guest wouldn’t have said that while sober. “I think I’d look better in one, actually. Perks of having zero muscle tone.”

“Show me.”

“You think I have dresses lying around in my apartment?”

“There’s enough random shit on the floor, you never know. Ah,” he swiped his thumb across Itaru’s cheek, “you have some cream stuck here.”

Needless to say, his next step was to lick that thumb clean. The cliché-o-meter shot up so intensely it broke down, never to be repaired again. Itaru couldn’t give credit to his eyes. He felt his body starting to convulse with laughter. Indeed, that was the same guy who once fended off a bunch of delinquents with a line that seemed taken from an old manga. It was all too unbelievable, but at the same time, it all made sense.

“The hell you laughing for?”

“Tell me, Banri,” he said once he’d calmed down enough to speak, wiping tears off his eyes. “How many more flags are you planning to raise tonight?”

“Screw the flags, that cream was bugging me.”

“It was just like… just like a…” He recalled that once CG from that one visual novel he’d played not too long ago, and went back to clutching his sides. “Ahahahahaha!”

“Ugh, just shut it already!” Banri grumbled before plugging Itaru’s mouth with one of the whole strawberries sitting on the cake. Sadly, it had the exact opposite of the desired effect.

 

And thus minutes and hours passed in relative harmony. They were greatly enjoying themselves pushing each other’s vehicles into walls and out of the tracks when Itaru noticed the clock on the screen displayed the time as 00:02. Damn, he’d almost forgotten. He put down his controller.

“Ah. It’s time.”

“Itaru-san, merry Christ—” Itaru ignored him, quickly reaching for his smartphone instead. “Hey!”

“Merry Christmas,” he intoned as he grabbed it, without lifting his eyes from the screen.

“Oh come on, we aren’t even going to toast?!”

With a huff of annoyance, he raised his phone to make it clink against Banri’s awaiting glass. “Cheers. Now stay put for a minute, this is important.”

He held his breath as he opened CuCa and rushed to the limited scout tab, a tender exhalation escaping his lips once he saw the banner of the new box. She was so cute. The cutest. And she was going to get dragged home no matter the cost.

He dropped the phone on his lap, poured himself some more liquor and emptied the glass in a few quick gulps. His throat burned.

“Oi, aren’t you working tomorrow? You’re gonna wake up with an amazing hangover.”

“Uh, yeah, I’ll deal with that tomorrow. I need to be drunk _now_.”

He stared at the scout buttons, feeling a little queasy. Needless to say, he planned to scout again, if needed; he was going to scout until Sacchi was home. Still, the first pull was always the most nerve-wracking. He let his finger hover over the ten-scout button as he took a deep breath. He nervously wiped his face with a hand and scratched his cheek. He inhaled, then exhaled, then tapped the button.

After a few seconds of loading, he was prompted to touch the screen to commence the scout; however, he couldn’t just yet: first, he needed to complete the ritual. He’d be lying if he said it had never failed him. It had actually failed him way too many times to count, but placebo will be placebo.

He closed his eyes, hands joined in prayer. _Please come home, Sacchi, please come home, please, please, Sacchi, please, I love you, please_. Once he was sure she’d heard his pleading, he’d watch the bouncing gift box on the screen, waiting for the moment it’d slightly pop open. It would be right then, when the lid was at its zenith, that he’d tap that screen, as fast as lightning, as tenacious as a wild hawk, as stylish as a jump attack after avoiding party-wide damage. Damn, he was getting distracted. The gift box was there, cheekily bouncing around, looping the same animated frames over and over. He reckoned it would pop open in a second and a half. One second. Three quarters of a second—

And then Banri slipped an impertinent finger under his hand and tapped the screen.

“You… wh… you…!!”

“Bah, who cares. We both know the cards are pre-loaded.”

Yes. He knew the cards were pre-loaded. “That’s not the fucking point, you bastard!! You just ruined my roll, I can feel it, it’s gonna suck and it’s all gonna be your fault.”

He watched the gift boxes parachute down the screen, his expression turning sourer with each silver one. No rainbow box in sight, of course.

“Ah.”

“Two SRs.” He shot Banri a long, hard look. “I hope you’re happy.”

He was tempted to skip to the results screen, but decided to watch the failed roll to the bitter end. He’d get to wallow in his own misery, and, if he was lucky, maybe Banri would feel bad. He definitely should feel bad.

One dupe. Two dupes. The first golden box contained, of course, another dupe. Next one, yet another dupe. The next one opened to reveal a golden box… which opened to reveal a…

It was a rainbow box. It was there, right on his screen. He lit up like the Christmas tree he never bothered to put in his apartment.

“Oh my god, Banri, Banri, look, this one just flipped!”

“Oooh.” He drew closer to watch the spectacle from over his shoulder. “Prolly another dupe, though.”

However, what came next was an unfamiliar string of words on the screen, and Itaru felt the air leave his lungs. Then, with a burst of color, she appeared. Sacchi was right in front of him, with her tulle skirt and her blinding smile, and he gasped, trying his best to form words.

“She’s… she’s here… she’s here!!!!!”

He lifted up the phone with both hands, laughing like an idiot, then kissed the screen over and over in an unabashed display of childlike glee. He was so happy. So happy so happy so damn happy.

He took a moment to glance at his guest, who was quietly watching him, mouth hanging open.

“Wow, Banri. That’s one stupid face.”

“ _Mine_?” he exclaimed. “…You should’ve seen _yours_!”

Well, he was probably right. He kissed the screen again, for good measure. He skipped to the end of the roll, and then he busied himself unlocking the story and clothing items that came with the card, humming the catchy tune he’d heard earlier on TV.

Minutes passed, and his initial excitement gradually subsided. At some point, he realized the room was too quiet. He supposed Banri had turned off the console, for some reason. The gap left by the racing game’s cheery background music was too large, and that silence wasn’t particularly comfortable. He turned up the volume on his phone to make up for it.

“Itaru-san.”

He didn’t look up from the screen. “Hmm?”

Banri took a while to reply, as if he was hesitating to speak. Did Settsu Banri ever hesitate, though? The very idea was preposterous. “I wanna know something.”

“Which something?”

“What happened to you?”

He felt the hairs on the back on his neck stand on end under Banri’s gaze. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, like… you won’t trust me. You keep thinking I’m gonna ditch you. Can’t just be because of that guildie of yours, there’s gotta be something you—”

“That’s just the way I am, I told you already.”

“You told me you had some bad experience.”

“Did I now.”

“Yeah, that day someone at work found your account. That’s when you told me.”

There he was again, remembering stuff he shouldn’t. “It’s nothing important.”

“It is important. I wanna know.”

“Well I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Come on,” he insisted. “My reward for getting you the card.”

“Never said there’d be any. If anything, you should get a penalty for sticking your finger on my screen.”

“I pulled you a limited on the first try.”

“You yourself said the cards are preloaded.”

“Who cares!”

Itaru rubbed his forehead and shot Banri a tired look. That was gonna be one of those times, wasn’t it? That kid would come at him until he got what he wanted. He didn’t feel like reminiscing, at least not about those times, and he felt like sharing even less. He should just come up with some fake story, anything that sounded believable enough to get him off his back for a while. Anything but the truth.

Banri didn’t deserve that, though.

He put his phone down and brought his knees up on the couch, resting his idle arms on them. “It’s nothing special. It’s kinda boring, actually.”

“I wanna hear.”

Itaru let out a deep weary sigh and, after a few moments of hesitation, he began his story. He told him about how he’d never made friends in grade school because he sucked at playing ball. About how he’d seeked refuge in video games from a young age. About how his classmates in middle school enjoyed keeping him out of the loop, and how he never had the strength to carve himself a place among his peers. He told him about how he’d learnt to wear a mask in high school, and how, by chance, he made his first friend. About how, for the first time, he experienced the joy of sharing his interests with a like-minded individual, and how he’d thought that joy would last forever, that he would never have to look back on the dull days he’d left behind.

At that point, he paused to take a deep breath, trying to get it back under control, and got rid of his hair tie with fidgety fingers. He noticed that Banri had placed a hand on his shoulder. He vaguely wondered what he thought of his tale up to that point, but he didn’t exactly want to ask, either. He was tired of it, himself, and couldn’t wait to wrap the story up and be done with it, once and for all. Back to it.

He told him about how that friend had no problem betraying his trust, one he felt associating with him would compromise his own façade. He told him about how he tried to convince himself not to care at that time, but couldn’t help it, and ended up letting the experience shape the way he interacted with the world. With every word, he felt Banri’s grip tightening around his shoulder, closer and closer to crossing the threshold of pain.

“Give me a name,” he finally spoke up. That was the most heated he’d ever seen him. “Gonna punch the bastard’s teeth out if I ever meet him.”

Itaru gave a wry laugh. “I’d rather you didn’t get yourself arrested.”

“Would be worth it.” He grabbed his glass and emptied it in two swift gulps, wincing, before placing it back on the table, way more gently than he’d expected. “Wanna hug?”

“No. Why?”

“Dunno, feels like the situation calls for a hug.”

“Well, I happen to disagree.”

“Bah, just let me do it!”

He tried to duck and slide away from the sudden pincer attack, but that just made Banri tighten his grip around him. The end result looked more like a weird choke hold than a hug.

“Holy shit, man, you suck at this.”

“My skill points went somewhere else.”

Banri chuckled, way too close to his ear. “Didn’t know you cared enough about self-improvement to allocate them anywhere.”

“Fuck you, Banri.” Ah, shit. That would have been the perfect chance for a zinger concerning the smartass prick’s broken stats and his EZ mode life and so on. He’d been served an opening on a silver platter, but his brain was too muddled to come up with anything good, and he’d let it escape. He pouted.

“Aight, second attempt.”

He grumbled as Banri forced his uncooperative limbs into place. “I never pegged you for the touchy-feely type.”

“I’m… not?” He made a noncommittal sound, shrugging. “Don’t think I am, at least.”

“Then why this.”

“‘Cause I feel like it.”

“This is stupid,” he insisted as he perched his head on Banri’s shoulder. From a purely physical standpoint, he was comfy enough. Those arms enveloping him didn’t feel too bad. He could feel they meant to support him, to shield him from harm, rather than simply keep him in place. The problem, of course, was that the source of that comfort was another human being. The idea of physical affection was still too foreign to him. It made his body tense up, a defense mechanism both against those arms themselves and against the rest of the universe, ready to attack his weakened frame once they let go. Again, that was some bullshit logic, wasn’t it.

Banri lightly punched him on the back. “Just relax already, geez!”

“I’m relaxed.”

“The hell you are!”

“Okay, let me rephrase: this is the most relaxed I’ll be.”

He let out an exasperated huff, tickling his ear. “Make an effort.”

“You don’t get to talk about effort.” There. There it was, his witty one-liner. Now he felt vindicated.

He huffed again, and goosebumps rose on Itaru’s skin. “Whatever. Just do it.”

He did his best to reason the tension away, concentrating on the feeling of comfort, Banri’s palm on his back, that thumb lazily caressing his nape. He had trouble wrapping his mind around the idea that it wasn’t meant as a joke, or as a new way to bully him, but as a simple and honest display of affection. He wasn’t sufficiently prepared to deal with those, or with whatever consequences they would have. However, it was Christmas, and he was drunk, and Banri was also drunk, so what did it matter. He’d spare an extra effort and let his muscles loosen up.

“That’s better.”

“Yay.”

He didn’t make a fuss when Banri pulled him even closer, nestling his head on his shoulder and opening both palms on his back, trying to cover as much surface as they possibly could. “It won’t happen again, it won’t,” he whispered, his voiced filled with a sort of unusual gentleness that made Itaru grow alarmed.

“Say…” he ventured. “Do you pity me now?”

“Huh?” He sounded genuinely surprised by the question. “Nah, that’s not it. It’s more like… Dunno, I wanna try harder now. To compensate.”

“It’s not your responsibility.”

“So what?”

“To be honest, I’d rather you pretended you didn’t hear a thing.”

“No can do.”

“I don’t want you to treat me differently. Anything but that.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get the idea,” he chuckled, his voice somewhat slurry. “It’s fine, Itaru-san. We’re gonna be fine.”

As usual, Itaru had no idea how he could be so sure, but he wanted to believe him. He wanted to have faith in him, in his reassuring words, and let those slender fingers run through his scalp and make him mellow. There was no need for the past to repeat itself. There was no guarantee it wouldn’t, either, but he wanted to cast those thoughts aside, for the time being. Still, it hurt to look back on those days. When he exhaled, it came out kinda shaky.

“You can cry if you wanna.”

“I don’t wanna,” he protested. “I did it _once_ , that doesn’t mean I’m always… fucking crying.”

“I know.”

He shifted in Banri’s arms, trying to do away with that feeling of malaise. Time had dulled what once had been a sharp pain, but he’d never fully healed. The thorn was still stuck on his side, hidden by layers of skin that the years had piled upon each other, but it still hurt whenever he ran a finger across the spot. It was dumb, and it was pointless, but that was the way things were.

“It’s been so damn long. I thought I’d be over it by now. I should be, but…” He swallowed. He didn’t manage to get rid of the bitterness spreading through his mouth. “But I’ve never had the chance, never found a place where I could… you know… A place where things are better, where I can just forget about this shit and… and…” He trailed off, appalled by the string of whiny loser words that had just come out of his whiny loser mouth. Fuck alcohol. He was never drinking again. “Ugh.”

“Then let’s build that place.”

He shot up to look at Banri, eyes as big as plates. His lips trembled as he pressed them down, trying his best not to burst out laughing. “Sorry, what?”

“I said we can make that place. That happier place. I’ll make it for you.” When he saw Banri’s solemn expression, he knew resistance was futile. He was cracking up. _Oh no_.

There was no turning back. He let the laughter bubble up out of him, intensifying by the second. “Holy shit, you’re on a roll tonight, aren’t you,” he said as Banri frowned, either confused or frustrated by his outburst. “How drunk do you even need to be to say that kinda stuff with a straight face…?”

“I’m not drunk!” he declared, and yet those glassy eyes told him otherwise.

“Then you have no excuse for that line.”

“Like I need one.”

“So you’re finally embracing your lame-ass RPer nature, huh? Glad to have you with us.”

“Hey, don’t drag me down to your level.” As he pressed their foreheads together, he swayed a little bit. Yeah, definitely not drunk. At all.

“No need, you’re doing a great job yourself. As usual.”

“Bah.” He pulled away to look at him straight in the eye. It was rather unnerving. “I mean it, though. You have me now, so… so we can do it. I’m here. And I won’t do that shit. Like, like the shit that guy did.”

He chuckled at Banri’s terrible attempt to express himself against the altering powers of alcohol. “Very eloquent.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Do I?”

“Hrmmm.”

Another chuckle. “Alright, as you like, then,” he conceded, showing him a cynical smile which he hoped would look sincere instead. “My faith in humanity rests on your shoulders.” He patted them a couple times, for emphasis. “No pressure.”

“Not feeling any.” As usual, he exuded confidence from every pore. How the hell did he manage? “I won’t fail. Why would I fail?”

Itaru laughed some more, deflating onto one of those shoulders he’d already grown dependant on. Banri was right. There was no way he would fail, if he tried.

If.

Using him as a crutch was dangerous, he knew as much.

“Ah, shit.”

“‘Sup?”

“Just realized I’ll have to walk home.”

“I can drive you there.”

He laughed. “Itaru-san, you’re drunk.”

“Right, I forgot.” Itaru stared at the ceiling for a couple seconds. Nothing to see there. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but he did know one thing: he wasn’t allowing Banri to walk home in that state. “Stay here, then.”

“For real?”

“You’re sleeping on the couch, though.”

“Eeh? Why?” he protested.

“No way I’m letting you into my bed, now that I know you like to snuggle people without their permission—” Banri grabbed a cushion and whacked him square in the face. “Oof!”

“Gah, shut up!”

“My, young kids are so violent nowadays!” He dissolved into laughter as Banri repeatedly hit him. It was no mean feat to shield himself from the blows and clutch his stomach at the same time.

“Just.” Thwack. “Shut.” Thwack. “Up!” Another thwack for good measure.

Bit by bit, he collapsed onto the floor, knees weakening from the laughter as cushion hits rained down on him. “Okay, okay! I give!” he wheezed.

“Great,” Banri said, walloping him one final time. “Now shoo. This is my turf.” He curled up on the couch, waving him off.

Itaru snorted. “Sounds like something I would say.” Now that he was looking at him from a different spot, his cheeks looked rather red, didn’t they. He’d overdone it with the drinks. They both had.

“Yeah, you’re rubbing off on me.”

“That’s bad. You should run away while you still can,” he said as he stood back up.

“Nah.”

That simple refusal took him by surprise. He wasn’t sure how to respond. He didn’t, in the end, and just left to get ready for bed, ultimately letting Banri have the last word. Having the last word wouldn’t save him from work tomorrow. He got changed, he brushed his teeth, he set the alarm, and the whole time he couldn’t stop thinking about the guest occupying his couch. He was a terrible host, wasn’t he? Leaving him like that, not even offering a change of clothes, or a simple toothbrush. Not that Itaru was particularly zealous about oral hygiene himself, but he imagined it wouldn’t feel that great to sleep with remains of alcohol, cream and ramen broth in the mouth. However, by then, it was too late. It would be weird as hell to offer any amenities at that point, and having someone sleep over was weird enough already. There was no need to pile up an extra dose of weirdness onto it.

He peeked into the living room: no movement. Banri must have fallen asleep. He stood there for a minute, wondering what to do next. It didn’t sit well with him to go sleep and leave things as they were, but still.

He finally went back to his room. Then stood there for another minute. Then he shook his head, grabbed a blanket from his closet and made his way to the couch, slowly, stopping every few steps to make sure he wouldn’t wake Banri up. It took him a while to make it there. He spent a few moments watching him breathe peacefully before covering him with the blanket and tiptoeing back to his room.

Deep down, he knew Banri was pretending to be asleep to spare him an awkward exchange.


	13. Patch up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like this chapter broke the length record again. WHY  
> Haven’t had the chance to learn much about the Chigasaki family other than Big Sis Is Scary, so their depictions here are mostly based on headcanon. Also, they’re all just as horrible as the man himself. (*Last minute note: this was all written before the Playback card dropped and I don’t have access to the backstage, so there might be some discrepancies. Sorry in advance)  
> Ah, one small warning: there’s some blood and violence, though nothing you wouldn’t expect from your run-of-the-mill shounen story. There’s also shounen style human physiology. Probably. My apologies to all health professionals.

Itaru woke up feeling as if his head had been viciously drilled from multiple sides. He didn’t remember drinking enough to justify the pain, and he was sure he remembered everything: the cake, the lucky gacha pull, the h—yeah, okay, everything. That just made his head hurt even worse.

It was Christmas Day. It was also a regular workday. Merry Christmas to him. He mustered all the strength he didn’t have to get up, then wobbled towards the kitchen, hoping he’d have some painkillers hidden somewhere. As he passed through the living room, he noticed some rustling sounds coming from the couch.

“Morn’,” he mumbled. It was enough to get the point across.

“…ning,” a feeble, broken voice replied.

He made it to the kitchen and opened a cabinet on autopilot, his weary arms groping around for a suitable-looking package. Nice, that one would do the trick. The blurry letters on the cardboard looked familiar enough, so he didn’t think twice before popping one of the effervescent tablets in his mouth and chewing on it. He knew it wasn’t supposed to work that way, but whatever. He didn’t feel like sweating the small details.

He eyed the box as he filled a glass with water. Maybe he should bring some to Banri, too. Be a good host and all that jazz. Then again, if he was in his shoes, he’d rather lie down undisturbed as long as possible. He left the open box on the counter, exited the kitchen with a yawn and attempted to drag himself to the bathroom.

“—taru-san.”

He turned towards the voice to see a pair of bleary eyes peeking from above the armrest and, in spite of everything, he couldn’t help but smile. “Lucky you. You get to sleep a few more minutes.”

“Mmm.” Banri slid down, disappearing back into the warm, soft, tantalizing cushions. He so wished he could do the same.

 

The next time Itaru stepped into the living room, he looked a bit more like a person—or, at least, the person he was expected to look like. However, his suit and freshly shampooed hair didn’t make him feel any less like death. Fuck it, he’d just call in sick. Oh, no. No one in the trading industry was allowed to be sick around that time of the year. The mere suggestion would get him skinned alive. He guessed he had no choice but to suck it up.

“…‘s it time already?” Banri asked as he did his best to sit up, the rumpled blanket still spread across his lap.

“Yeah. Gotta pretend I’m a responsible adult and all that.”

“You got it rough.”

“Not as rough as your voice.”

Banri snorted, then winced and brought a hand up to massage his forehead. “That was terrible.”

“Yeah, I know.”

He kept his gaze on Banri as he switched to rubbing the sleep of his eyes, trying and failing to keep them open, slowly stretching his limbs, all while wearing one of the most disgruntled expressions he’d ever seen . While he enjoyed watching him taste the despair of Monday mornings, there was something about the sight that turned his sadistic glee into softness, and by the time Banri managed to somewhat straighten up, he was convinced that the best course of action was to push him back on the couch. And that was what he did, as gently as he could.

“Actually, you’re on winter break, aren’t you, you lucky bastard. Just stay here and sleep it off.”

Banri put up no resistance, and when the back of his head came into contact with the soft fabric once again, he looked relieved. He looked grateful. “So you’re leaving me in charge of house-sitting?”

However, not even that blissful smile freed Itaru of his reservations. _Are you seriously letting him roam your sanctuary as he pleases, unattended?_ , a voice inside his head piped up. He would really appreciate it if that voice would shut up, for once. “Yes, and quite reluctantly so. You better go back to sleep before I reconsider.”

“Nice.”

Banri lay down to nestle his cheek against a cushion, looking as if he was leaning on heaven itself, and, for once, he thought that maybe, _maybe_ he was doing the right thing.

“Make sure you don’t set anything on fire.”

“Bah. This dump of an apartment would only improve if it got razed to the ground.”

Boy did his face fall fast. “Really now. Guess what, I’ve changed my mind, you’re coming with.”

“Hell no,” the couch’s occupant chuckled as he snuck under the blanket.

Peeved and yet amused, Itaru resorted to lifting a foot to poke the cheeky brat over and over. He had fun annoying him until he got yanked by the ankle, which forced him to hop a few times to try and regain his balance. The sudden movement reminded him that he had a humongous headache.

“Ow, fuck!” he groaned, pressing down on his temples. “Fuck you!”

Banri responded with a raspy laugh.

 

→

 

On the way to work, the painkillers had mercifully started to kick in, but their effect left much to be desired. His skull was still screaming. Looking at his phone made him dizzy. Watching the buildings run past him made him dizzy. Keeping his eyes closed through the ride made him dizzy. At each stop, he was tempted to get off and catch the first train going the opposite way. The lone advantage of the trip was that it was short enough not to succumb to the urge.

His thoughts kept drifting to the figure he’d left occupying his couch, alone, free to do whatever he pleased. It had barely been half an hour since he’d left the apartment, though, so Banri should still be resting on that couch, sleeping his hangover off. If only he could materialize back there and join him, lie down right next to him, obtain what he longed for the most.

Warmth. A thick blanket, body heat. Comfort. Pliant cushions, soft skin, deft fingers lazily scratching his back. Tenderness. No. Stop. Not that. That one was too out there.

With a furtive movement, he pushed up the collar of his jacket to hide his nose underneath, hoping the other commuters wouldn’t notice his skin going from a ghastly gray to cherry red. There was something very off with him that morning. Accepting physical contact was one thing, but actively wishing for it was on a whole another level. One single hug shouldn’t have messed with his head like that.

One single hug. Was that single hug still within the boundaries of normalcy, though? He couldn’t exactly tell. His own experiences were way too limited to use as reference, so he had to make up for those with what he’d learnt from works of fiction and the media. Still, he doubted that the average teenage boy made a habit out of hugging other boys, at least outside of hot-blooded manga involving high voltage gang wars, team sports, or similar life-or-death situations. Blood, sweat, tears, camaraderie, manly hugs. Whatever that meant. Either way, the context didn’t match with theirs. Theirs had been too drawn out, too gentle, too… was intimate the word? He hoped it wasn’t.

Maybe the core of the matter was that Banri wasn’t _average_. He wasn’t enough of a normie to be average, as much as he loved to tease him about his offline activities. His skill wasn’t average, his conception of the world wasn’t average. His values were too ludicrous to be average. An average kid wouldn’t want to spend his Christmas Eve with a tired salaryman, and yet there he was.

…Yup, it was official: he was getting too attached to that kid, and it would hurt like a bitch whenever things inevitably started to fall apart.

Look at him, sitting on the train to work with a splitting headache and a face that could pass for a zombie, panicking because of one single fucking hug. Disgraceful. It was so pathetic it was funny. He couldn’t help but fear the consequences that Christmas Eve would have, and those it was already having; however, another side of him was fighting to be heard: the side that wanted to let go, enjoy the moment, see where things would take him.

He was familiar with that emerging side. It had been present on the limited occasions he’d attempted to form a bond with someone, and in all those cases, when all was said and done, reality had left him wishing he’d never listened. He’d be going through all that again soon.

_Enough. Not in the mood to deal with this._

For the first (and most probably only) time in his life, when the speakers announced it was his time to get off, he saw it as a blessing. He was tired of being stuck. He needed to move. Once he stepped out, wincing at the heartless cold air, the knot finally started to unravel. The chilly wind pushed against him, cutting his cheeks then blowing past, tearing out everything in his mind but the essential. In the end, one clear, single thought remained: the night before, he was next to someone who genuinely wanted to be beside him. Someone who wanted him to feel good.

He loved to overcomplicate it all with what-ifs, yes. However, at the core, things were quite simple. There was something he knew for sure, and it was that, despite his fears and splitting headache, he was happy, and happiness should be cherished, not evaded. Now if only his attitude was more willing to cooperate.

 

→

 

When lunch break came around, his headache was back in full force. He miserably munched on his meal, doing his best to sit straight and not stab his own forehead with the tip of his spoon. Right in front of him, Chikage was enjoying his green curry, watching him with a look that screamed “I’m not surprised and yet very disappointed.”

That snapshot had become a common occurrence, him leaning on a cafeteria table looking like absolute crap while Chikage sat opposite him, judging him, silently or not. He wondered if Chikage would ever be the one looking like crap. Most likely not.

He glanced at Sacchi on the screen. He was sure he’d gone over that same line of dialogue at least seven times, and yet he hadn’t the foggiest idea what she was saying. As he made his eighth attempt, for the nth time that day, he thought of Banri. It should be late enough for him to be up. Was he feeling any better? Had he found the painkillers, had he eaten some leftover cake for breakfast? What was he doing, right then? Maybe he was snooping around his room. Maybe he wasn’t even in the apartment anymore. He could always text him and ask, but he barely had the strength to tap the screen, so typing was clearly out of the question. He abandoned the phone, hung his head in his palms and let out a deep sigh.

“Senpai,” he whined, “why won’t anyone call with a fake bomb threat so we can all go home?”

“I’ll do it, for a fee.”

“Can I pay you in Tw▒tch bits?”

“No.”

“Aw.” With that, he buried his head back in his arms.

Chikage let out a subtle laugh, reaching across the table to grab Itaru’s empty glass, and left the table without a word. He peeked to the side, straining his eyes to follow his movements. It appeared he’d just gone for a water refill: the most mundane activity ever. Still, that was a first. He’d never done him that simple favor without being asked—begged, rather—and half the time Itaru would just get a ‘do it yourself’ as an answer.

Christmas Day or not, his senior wasn’t the type to display this solicitous sort of behavior, so he couldn’t help but feel suspicious. There had to be a catch. Either that, or he’d figured that letting him walk around the cafeteria in that deplorable state might have an adverse effect on their colleagues, cloud their moods by proxy or some such reasoning. It was for the greater good. Work needed to get done.

Work, work, work…

He had no idea how he’d even manage to carry his own ass back to his desk.

Chikage was soon back at their table with his glass of water. However, before returning it to its rightful owner, he tore open a small unlabeled sachet and poured the contents inside. Itaru watched the powder slowly disappear into the clear liquid, mesmerized, too tired to even direct his eyes somewhere else. The tiny smirk Chikage was wearing made the whole thing look shady, way shadier than necessary, and nevertheless he was strangely unbothered by his senior tampering with his drink. On the contrary, it was oddly calming to watch him stir it with a spoon until the (presumed) medicine fully dissolved, leaving barely a trace. He still gave him a questioning look once he pushed the glass towards him.

“It won’t kill you.”

That was his only explanation. Itaru didn’t feel like asking for details, so he just brought the glass to his lips. At any rate, his status couldn’t worsen. He was afflicted by too many debuffs to make space for a new one.

“Feeling like death already,” he replied before letting the liquid fill his mouth.

“And somehow you look way more alive than you did last Friday.”

He finished gulping down the bitter draught. “No thanks to you. I still remember what you did with the elevator door.”

A snort. “That was all you, Chigasaki. You and your great sense of timing.”

“Yeah, right. If there’s anyone sick enough to research elevator tempos for the sake of bullying me, that’s you. Sick and idle enough.”

“I’m happy that you hold me in such high regard,” he chuckled as he reclined in his seat.

“Meh.”

“Anyway, you should get a nice energy boost from this,” Chikage said, lightly flicking his glass, “so I think I’m going to remove a few documents from my pile and add them to yours. I believe it’s a fair trade.”

He looked up to glare a few daggers at Chikage, and when he was met with his devilish smile, he knew it: he was dead and currently stuck in the deepest level of the underworld, facing the area’s last boss, no save point to go back to. The worst part of all was that he didn’t even remember signing up for it.

 

→

 

Chikage hadn’t been kidding about the energy boost. He was pumped. Super pumped. The effects had lasted him throughout the whole work day, and even then, well on his way back home, he was feeling capable of sprinting through the streets and zigzagging through the crowds and climbing stairs two steps at a time.

He wouldn’t mind having a few years’ supply of the stuff, whatever it was. Something told him he would never know, what with Chikage likely claiming it was a secret formula, or saying he wouldn’t particularly like the answer, if he did get one. He’d do his best to freak him out. Still, even with Chikage being Chikage, there was no way he’d introduce potentially harmful substances into his junior’s body just to get him to function.

…He wouldn’t, would he?

Well, he’d have to trust his liver to handle it.

He rushed through the neighborhood, grinning once he caught a glimpse of his apartment complex. Home sweet home. He couldn’t wait to get there. Time to add some extra spring in his step. Faster, faster. If he made it home just a second earlier, maybe something good would happen. Maybe he’d make it in time. He knew he was a few hours too late, but that one tiny sliver of hope was too stubborn to crush, and it managed to survive until the moment he pushed the door open.

“I’m ho—” he trailed off once he realized no one would reply. “Home…”

Of course there was no one inside. His cheeks lit up when he realized he’d just yelled a greeting at the walls. Wow, that was stupid.

He vaguely remembered Banri mentioning some ski trip with classmates. He should’ve been out for a while, then, back at home and busy packing. Definitely not lazing about on the couch where he’d left him, ready to welcome him back.

Nevertheless, something about his apartment felt different. He couldn’t pinpoint what; he supposed it might be some sort of subconscious perception. Maybe the smell had subtly changed. Perhaps it was a tiny bit less cold than usual due to residual body heat. He didn’t dislike it, either way.

He took his time at the front door, adjusting to that ethereal new thing permeating the air. Somehow, as empty as it was, his home felt more like a home that evening. Once he’d left his shoes in the usual spot, making sure Banri’s sneakers were nowhere to be seen, he made his way to the living room. There, he noticed his favorite charcoal gray knit scarf sitting on the coffee table and, right beside it, a scribbled note.

_← Leaving this here in case you get lonely, I want it back next year_

That made him snort. “This guy…”

_PS I left some stuff in the fridge_

Stuff in the fridge, huh. _There’s nothing here, like, absolutely nothing_ , he’d said the night before. Wait, no way he’d…

He darted off to the kitchen, eager to start the damage appraisal, and flung the fridge open. It was exactly as he’d feared. No, it was way worse. A few fruits, vegetables and assorted foodstuffs were lining up the shelves. What was left of the cake had been carefully stored inside a glass container he didn’t even remember owning. Not satisfied with simply doing some grocery shopping on his behalf, the madman had taken it upon himself to cook him a whole pot of stew, complete with a note that read _SPECIAL SEASONAL CHALLENGE: NO INSTANT RAMEN TILL 2018 —7 DAYS TO GO—_.

That guy was absolutely nuts. It was too much. It was way more than his mind could process. He shook his head, laughing, smiling, frowning, smiling once more.

“I never asked you to,” he whispered to nobody, his words contradicting the fond smile that was quickly gaining ground.

He’d lost to Banri again. That dickhead had just mercilessly wiped the floor with him, and he resented that, and yet his mouth insisted on smiling wider and wider no matter how many times he told it to keep still. He let out a shaky burst of laughter, and shuddered when he felt his eyes were getting suspiciously watery.

With the fridge slammed shut, he stalked back to the living room to pick up the gray scarf. It was way too blurry to make out any of the knit details, but it felt just as soft under his thumbs, soft and warm, as comforting as he remembered it being. He let his unsteady frame drop onto the couch and hunched down, burying his nose in the supple woolen fibers, letting the familiar smell soothe him as he tried his best not to break down.

 

→→→

 

The 108th bell signaled the arrival of the new year. Around him, the crowds started clamoring, exchanging wishes, needlessly touching one another in excitement, being generally loud. He, too, wished his family a happy 2018, then promptly grabbed his phone, all while voicing his dissatisfaction with the idea of welcoming the year at the nearby temple, and not from the comfort of their family home, in front of the TV.

“Take it up with your sister,” his father said. As if that was actually possible.

With one last grumble, he pulled up the gray scarf to shelter his nose from the freezing cold, then opened the top LIME conversation. At that time, Banri should be at the hotel’s private club, partying it up with the other posh kids in his class. Nothing to be jealous about. Loud music blasting his eardrums in a cramped space, being pushed and pulled around, wasn’t exactly his idea of fun. He still wished he could open a tiny window in the air and peek through it, see how he was doing. Needless to say, that wasn’t happening. He typed him a message instead.

 _happy new year, you ass. hope you break a leg_ _or two on the slopes  (_ _・_ _ω_ _・_ _)_

He let his thumb hover over the send button, rethinking his course of action. Hm. No, not yet. It was barely a minute past midnight. Too early. He didn’t want to seem overly attached. Backspace, backspace. As he stared at the screen, pondering affinity levels and appropriate timings, a pair of small, sharp fingers brutally pinched the back of his hand.

“Ow!”

“Family now, login bonuses later,” his sister urged.

He rubbed the wounded area. “I wasn’t—”

“That’s beside the point,” she cut him, her sweet smile doing a terrific job of masking her real demonic self. “Now you’ll be a dear and put this thing away, won’t you?”

Her tone implied that, if he didn’t comply, his phone might soon be sleeping with the fishes, which made him pocket it in a hurry. Better not to take any chances. He’d already given up on sending that stupid message anyway.

“Yes ma’am,” he intoned.

She pinched him again.

“Why?!”

“Attitude.”

He pouted, going back to nursing his abused hand. Her methods might be ruthless; however, deep down, Itaru believed she had the right of it: on the rare occasions the family was back together, he should try to be present in mind and heart, and not just body. No one said that was an easy job, though. The unsent message had comfortably planted itself on the back of his mind, filling him with a faint yet persistent feeling of regret.

 

Time went by. The crowd started clearing. He greeted neighbors who remembered the days when he was this () tall, others who barely recognized him, and others who sounded genuinely amazed that he’d managed to grow into a fine man. He fantasized about telling the latter that the lack of expectations was mutual, but he had an image to keep, so he just smiled and thanked them, and with each smile he felt his batteries drain.

Once the pests were out of earshot, a shrewd voice piped up beside him. “Life is full of surprises indeed. Who would have thought their dear little Mobuo would go from top-of-the-food-chain neighborhood terror to deadbeat scrub in a matter of years.”

He snorted. “You’re terrible, Mom.”

“You had to take after someone.”

Luckily for him, his sister was the only social butterfly in the family, and when his dad, looking just as bummed and weary, suggested they go home, he quickly clung to the idea. He couldn’t wait to sit down in front of a familiar screen.

 

→

 

_itaru-san, happy new year_

He’d been locked back up in his room for a while when his phone alerted him of a new message. It was forty-three minutes past midnight, but the time stamp on the screen clearly read 00:00. It was easy to reach a few conclusions from that, and all of those made him feel guilty. Why hadn’t he just sent the damn message in the first place…?

_happy new year! :D  
got the message just now, sorry_

_yeah network congestion i guess  
its kinda crowded in here_

He’d supposed as much.

_grats on having a life :^)_

_stfu_

Itaru considered their exchange was over, so he did exactly that, busy beating himself up for not having texted him earlier, and then beating himself up for making such a big deal out of it. However, as his head forced him to rewatch the whole incident for the third time, his phone buzzed again.

_back to my room now  
so when are you coming online_

Well, that was unexpected. No one would see him complain, though.

 

→

 

“So? How’s it going on your end, no drops yet?”

“Nope.”

“Wow, this sucks. No wonder this event’s dead. Can’t wait to manually grind all 1865 of the tokens. Yay.”

“Bitching on day one already, huh,” Banri laughed in his ear. “You know you’ll do it anyway.”

“Sadly.”

Both of them lay sprawled on their beds, a tiny laptop between their legs, miles apart from their main machines and from each other. He missed his real keyboard, his FPS were constantly dropping enough to make the game feel like a slideshow, and the continuous lag wasn’t helping. It was inefficient as hell. Nevertheless, it felt refreshing to play in a different environment. He was grateful they were playing at all.

“Ah, Banri, go get that chest on the right.”

“It’s on the left.”

“Go get the chest to _your_ left.”

“Yeah, yeah, just don’t die in the meantime.”

Banri sent a heal his way before moving out of range, nearly topping him off. Weird. That was quite far from his usual risky playstyle, his penchant for making Itaru bite his nails with each hit he received. Was he feeling particularly generous? Due to the holidays, maybe? He might just be playing it safe to make up for the crappy hardware and shaky connection. Or, as used to be the case whenever he behaved, he was planning to ask for some favor. Ah, it didn’t matter. In the end, the chest contained nothing but a single basic HP potion. He should have expected it, but it irritated him either way.

“Ew, man, ew. Why did you even bother opening that?”

“Wh…! Gee, I wonder why?!”

He grinned. At least, harassing his party mate was as rewarding as always.

They took the next mob pack. They took care of it. They ran deeper into the dungeon. They took another bunch of mobs. As usual, they did most of the work. A few minutes later, the boss was defeated, and their temporarily assigned party hurried out without a word of thanks. Itaru grimaced at the completion reward.

“Shit run.”

“Still nothing?”

“Base reward only, fuck this game.”

“Ah. I got some bonus tokens, like an extra 60%,” Banri said, making him sulk even more than he already was without external help.

“Fuck you.”

“Whoa, wait. Got the new chest piece too, direct drop.”

“Die.”

“Implying you could live without me.”

He rolled his eyes. “Looks like I sorely underestimated your ego when I said it was the size of Jupiter.”

Banri snorted. “Common mistake,” he said, which made Itaru want to strangle him right then and right there. If only he was within arm’s reach. “Speaking of, it’s 2018 already, huh. What happened with the no cup noodle challenge?”

Once he’d loaded back into the open world, he started running in circles, just to keep his fingers in motion. “You mean the one you one-sidedly pushed onto me without prior notice or consultation?”

“Yeah, that one.”

“Well, it’s done, I guess. Congratulate me.” He _had_ ordered some takeout ramen one day, but it came in a bowl and not a cup. Still safe, right?

“Good job, Itaru-san,” he laughed. If Banri was there, he’d be reaching out to mercilessly ruffle his hair again. He could feel it.

“Right, so what’s my prize.”

“Prize, huh.”

The pixel Neo approached his character, cheekily patting him on the head before opening a trade request. He was about to mutter an ‘it better be something good’ when Banri gifted him a lone sparkler. And that was it.

“I hate you,” Itaru announced as he set it off on his face, as offended as if he’d been handed an empty candy wrapper.

A laugh. “Wait, there’s more.”

“Give me another sparkler and I’m shoving it where the sun don’t shine.”

“Wow, you’re into some kinky shit.”

He let his character shake his head at Neo, expressing his utmost disappointment.

“Nah, listen,” he continued, still snickering. “Was thinking we could go eat out somewhere when I’m back.”

Itaru snorted. “Knew it.” There it was, the reason he was playing responsibly that night. How the hell did that count as a prize, anyway?

“Well, yeah. We didn’t get to go on Christmas Eve, so.”

“But why? What’s the point in going out, we can just order delivery.”

“Itaru-san, the point is going out,” he protested.

“Ugh.”

“Come on.”

“Too lazy.”

“Come on.”

He sighed. “…Okay, but on one condition.”

“Which condition?”

“You’re letting me treat you. Pet project or not, I can’t let you fill my fridge for free.”

“And it’s a matter of pride rather than money, I guess.”

“You got it.”

“Right,” Banri chuckled. “Fair enough.”

He threw his head back to stare at the ceiling, hoping someone up there would tell him exactly why he’d accepted. It was pure masochism, wasn’t it? Deep down, he enjoyed sabotaging his own peace, didn’t he?

“So? What’d you have in mind?”

“Was thinking about trying something fancy, like, dunno. French cuisine, or Italian?”

“Pi—”

“No, not that!” he laughed.

“You still owe me four of those.”

“I thought you were treating me.”

“Ah. Right.” That was when Itaru realized who he was talking to, and he felt a warning chill run down his spine. “Hold on. You said fancy here, but keep in mind that I’m an average dude with an average salary, so don’t exploit me too much.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Not gonna leave you in the red.”

“Please and thank you.”

“Aight then, I’ll find us a nice place. Next Friday or Saturday sound good to you?”

“Yeah, sure.” It would be an excuse to flee from potential drinking parties, if nothing else. Of course he was looking forward to doing stuff together, but why couldn’t it be indoors stuff? Like, stay-at-home stuff?

“Cool. Then it’s a date.”

“Say that again and I’m not showing up.”

He burst out laughing. “You weren’t like this when we first met up.”

“Banri,” he warned him.

“‘Kay, got it, not a date then.”

“You really had to go and say it twice, didn’t you?”

Banri just kept on cackling, making half an effort to run away as he chased him across the map, slapping his character over and over, and Itaru soon found himself laughing, too. He was enjoying himself too much to even pretend to be mad. Nevertheless, as was tradition when he was having fun, something had to get in the way, and their game of catch was cut short by a few muted thuds.

“Ah. Hold on, gotta get the door.”

Neo suddenly stopped in his tracks, taking an idle stance in the middle of a shallow puddle. A few amphibian mobs were alerted by his presence and began to swarm him, biting his armored legs with puny teeth. Itaru amused himself watching them chip away at his HP, just to see it heal back to full with the first natural regeneration tick. A futile endeavor.

The microphone began to pick up bits and pieces of a second voice: a mellifluous, unfamiliar voice, which surely belonged to one of those classmates. He didn’t like it one bit. As he frittered away time taking out his frustration on the defenseless mobs, Banri’s voice was quickly shifting from his usual nonchalant tone to a slightly annoyed one.

“No, I don’t wanna,” he said. “I’m busy.”

The second voice wasn’t giving up. He couldn’t make out the exact words, but the tone made it quite clear what that person was after, and the very idea made Itaru feel like he had a million knives trying to burst out of his stomach. Pressing his lips together, he wiped out the freshly respawned salamanders with a swing of his sword, then darted off to find something else to bully.

“I said leggo, can’t you see I’m in the middle of a call?” came Banri’s voice.

Look at him playing hard to get. He let out a fake-ass chuckle, hoping it would sound good-natured and not like a thin cover-up.

“Don’t mind me, just go out and do your thing. We can play anytime.”

“My thing?!”

“Yeah, come on. You’ve got a few more hearts to break before sunrise, don’t you.”

“Ugh. You’ll manage to piss me off in the end.”

“Sounds promising. So, how close am I to pissing you off?”

Banri sighed, but before he could give him an answer, the classmate asked for some attention again.

He was at a disadvantage there. If only he could materialize in that hotel room, he’d be able to grab him by the wrist and tell him, as firmly as he could, that he wasn’t going anywhere. He’d be honest, for once. From the four walls of his childhood home, however, all he could do was pray he was interesting enough company to be chosen over that ill-timed distraction. His chances were low.

“Give me a few minutes, gonna go put this drunkard to bed.”

“Ah.” _Can’t you stay here instead?_ “Have fun.”

“Fun? Are you kidding me?” He huffed. “Anyway, be right back.”

Banri hung up before he could reply. He resented that _be right back_ , as if he was actually planning to call again. Itaru had better things to do than wait for someone who’d ultimately just ditched him for some booty call.

Well, no, honestly, he didn’t have anything better to do.

He removed his earphones and curled up on the mattress, pushing his laptop away with a careless kick, frustrated. With the smartphone screen too close to his eyes to be healthy, he scrolled up to reread some of their latest conversations: the texts they had been exchanging during the past week, peppered with pictures of snowy mountains, views from outside and inside the hotel, Banri posing with a V sign next to his shiny snowboard. Further up, there were the messages from Christmas Day: Itaru asking about his bedroom snooping adventures, wishing him a nice trip, thanking him for the stew in a rather roundabout way. He kept reading and reading, telling himself that all those texts existed for a reason, but that dark and bitter thing wouldn’t stop spreading through his veins.

At one point, it became unbearable. He shot up and stalked downstairs, towards the kitchen. So much for their cozy play session, he thought. So much for that dinner date. Date. That word pissed him off to no end, how dare he even use it.

He aimlessly poked around drawers and cabinets, looking for a distraction, all the while asking himself what he should have done to make things go his way, what he should change if he ever had the chance to travel to the past. Would things be different now, if he hadn’t taken an eternity to start using voice chat, to agree to their first meetup? Would Banri have reconsidered, if he’d simply asked him to stay? As he piled up answerless questions upon questions, he found something solid enough: a family size bag of consommé flavored potato chips, made of the hardest, noisiest plastic. Good thing that the house’s other inhabitants were either heavy sleepers or partying outside.

After an arduous fight—prolonged by his stupid pride, which wouldn’t allow him to just grab a pair of scissors—he finally managed to tear the bag open. Once he’d cussed out its manufacturers and all their ancestors, he started drowning his sorrows in its contents. That must be what people meant by eating one’s feelings. Those chips were definitely salty enough to play the part, at least.

He knew he it was pointless to act and feel that way. He knew he’d been stuck on the same shit the previous week. He knew Banri had a life beyond their play sessions, a life he had no right to barge in, where he had no place. He knew that was normal. He knew dumping all his hopes and dreams on his shoulders was stupid, unfair, and generally a terrible idea. He knew he was being a wimp, and an idiot.

On the other hand, he was sad, and those chips were tasty. He ended up emptying the whole bag.

 

He made it back to his room with damp fingers and prickly mouth corners, satiated but not satisfied. The extra salt in his system wasn’t doing him any good. He wiped his hands on his pajama pants, ridding them of extra water droplets, and steeled himself before his laptop, expecting disappointment. He’d have to face it at some point, after all.

However, the universe wouldn’t have it that way.

 _Missed call from NEO (03:21)_  
_Missed call from NEO (03:21)_  
_Missed call from NEO (03:22)_  
_Missed call from NEO (03:27)_  
_Missed call from NEO (03:28)_  
_Missed call from NEO (03:30)_  
_Missed call from NEO (03:35)_  
_Missed call from NEO (03:49)_

“What the f…”

Jaw dropped, he scrambled to return the call as he fought with the earphone cord. It was 3:58. Not too late yet, was it? It couldn’t be too late. When he finally heard Banri’s voice, he sighed in relief, covering his mouth so the microphone wouldn’t pick it up.

“Welcome back, you slowpoke. Been waiting for a while.”

“Hey, sorry, I was downstairs.”

“Downstairs?”

“I, uh, felt like having a snack.”

He snickered. “Can’t believe you ditched me for a bag of chips.”

“How’d you know it was chips?”

“Duh. It’s you.”

“Haha. I guess I’m predictable enough, in some aspects.”

“Was starting to think you dozed off, actually.”

“As if.” After a short pause, he decided to voice what had been bothering him. He regretted it even before he finished his line. “Didn’t think you’d actually come back.”

Banri stayed silent for a few seconds, enough to make him fear the worst. Then, he huffed hard, the amplified sound from the earphones so harsh it made him wince. “I swear…”

“Hey, it was the most likely outcome. I know how read between the lines.”

“No. No, you seriously suck at it.” He sighed, audibly irked. “For fuck’s sake, Itaru-san, I thought we were over this already! What’s with the sudden regression?”

“You’re the one who assumed there was any progress to begin with.”

Another sigh. “Well I’d rather not stay stuck like this forever.”

“Really, though. You should be out there having fun with your people.”

“My people?!” Banri exclaimed. “They’re just classmates. I’d rather play with you than hang out with them.”

He chuckled. “Rude.”

“I mean… I don’t, like, hate them or anything, but… Been dealing with them all day, now it’s either I get a change of pace or I’ll explode.”

Ah, yeah. He understood that feeling well.

“And you really got nothing better to do than spend the beginning of the year with an emotionally impaired nerd?” he asked, a secret soft smile blooming on his lips.

“Nope.”

Itaru laughed through his nose. “Loser.” _I’m glad you don’t_.

 

→→→

 

That year, too, he’d been recruited by his sister to aid her on her quest for lucky bags. That year, too, she’d bestowed upon him the position of bag-carrier. He’d first been informed of his morning schedule after about three hours of sleep and a series of slaps and overly energetic foot nudges. He so wanted to tell her that if she wanted bags, she needn’t look further than below his eyes, but he didn’t feel like getting pinched again.

And so they’d set off before Itaru had managed to fully get his bearings. Once they made it to the shopping district, his sister announced he’d been promoted from bag carrier to gofer boy, and he was handed a printed out map which included the exact route he needed to follow, the shops he had to visit, and notes on what he was expected to purchase, including amount, if applicable, and alternatives in case her target item was sold out.

“Right, you’ll want to avoid this street here, especially after 10. It’s gonna be a bloodbath. If you’re dumb enough to try, you can break away from the throng by turning this corner here, or…”

His sister drilled the plan into his sleepy head with the flair of the most accomplished tacticians, instructing him on ideal regroup spots and times, escape routes, coin locker locations, crowded areas to avoid. It was thorough enough to be frightening. He couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if he tried introducing her to some strategy games. He had the feeling she would obliterate him in those. He also had the feeling she’d just shoot him a blank look if he suggested she played, but it might be worth a try. Someday.

He parted ways with Alexander the Great with a tight salute and the false promise to bag all the stuff she required. He knew he was heading into a battlefield, that he’d fail to grab a bunch of the items on the list, and that he’d get chewed out for choosing the wrong bags once she opened them and wasn’t satisfied with the contents. However, that was the first time they split responsibilities—more efficient this way, she’d reasoned—and he felt somewhat proud that his sister now trusted him enough to treat him as a teammate, instead of as an underling. Or as a familiar spirit, rather. The disadvantages still outweighed all of that, though.

Nevertheless, there was something about the mission and battle plan that made him feel excited, somehow. He then realized it was similar to preparing for an incursion into Comiket. He might even have some fun with his shopping duty, if he saw it as practice. On that note, what would his sister’s face look like, if he asked her to return the favor and accompany him there next time? Of course, he would never, but it was an amusing idea to play with. It was fun to speculate about the exact words she’d use to tell him she had no plans to swim across a sea of sweaty nerds to get him his limited edition moeshit merch.

Ah, if only he’d had the guts to go alone. Maybe Banri would be available next time. Maybe Lemon would come back and visit someday, he used to sound so excited about going. He hoped he remembered him.

 

→

 

It had been an arduous battle, but he’d managed. At least, he’d done well enough to receive a satisfied nod from his sister, rather than a look of pure disgust. That counted as a great success.

They were about to retire to a nearby café when he spotted a rather rundown game store. It had some merchandise on display outside, below a tiny washed out awning that barely covered a thing. His eyes immediately turned towards a bunch of vintage games being sold for dirt cheap. Seeing all those unwanted treasures carelessly strewn around that box, exposed to the inclement sun, tugged at his heartstrings.

“Wait, Sis, give me five minutes.”

“Alright. Five.”

Compelled to save the poor software and make full use of the 3x2 offer, he rushed towards the store and started rummaging through the pile, doubling the speed once his sister took the bags off his hands. He picked up dearly missed games he used to own. He picked up games he’d once wanted, but didn’t have the money for. He picked up games that simply looked good. He even took an extra copy of some, hoping Banri owned the pertinent console. If he didn’t, he’d better get his hands on it, and fast.

“Haha, this one brings back memories,” he said as he grabbed a colorful case he’d once owned, one he’d opened and closed too many times to count.

“The name rings a bell.”

“No wonder. You once threatened to stick it in the toaster if I ever used your conditioner again.”

“Oooh, now that you mention it, I do remember,” she grinned. “It worked, though, didn’t it? Kept your hands away like a charm.”

Charm? More like a curse. That complacent comment riled him up enough to take a needless risk. “What if I told you that I did use it, and that I just added some shower gel in the bottle so you wouldn’t notice?”

“You didn’t. You’re nasty enough to come up with these schemes, but too lazy to execute them.”

“Tch. Foiled again.”

“You wouldn’t fool me in a hundred years.” A soft chime. “Ah—”

His sister was soon taking out her phone, shooting an adoring smile at the screen as she caressed it with well-manicured nails. A text from her current man, then. As usual, Itaru wasn’t particularly interested, so he turned his attention back to the game pile. There had to be a few more gems awaiting within.

He didn’t have much time to look around before his sister spoke again.

“Itaru.”

There was something about her voice that boded ill, something that made him hesitate in his reply. “…Yeah?”

“We’re going home.”

“But I’m still—”

“Do what you like. I’m going home, at least.”

After a short grace period to secure his loot, they went home. His sister was strangely silent during the whole trip back, responding with nothing but hums whenever he made a weak attempt to spark up a conversation. The atmosphere was beyond ominous. Itaru had an inkling of what was going on, and he didn’t like it one bit. With each step, the dark cloud following them did nothing but grow, its pressure muting their voices all the way home.

Once the door closed behind them, his sister broke down crying.

 

→

 

They’d been sitting on that couch for a while, his sister draped over him as she cried her heart out into his lap. He didn’t dare to move a muscle. The lucky bags remained unopened in a corner, their bright cheery colors in total disagreement with the mood.

It felt weird. It felt like the natural order of things had been altered. She was the one who’d taught him how to confront the world, how to blend in to survive. The one who pushed, or rather smacked him forward when all he wanted to do was curl up in his hole and snivel. The one who had way too much fun with those smacks, if you will. She was his older sister, an overpowered, unbeatable entity. She wasn’t supposed to be reduced to a blubbering wreck because of anything or anyone, and he was never supposed to be the one to offer support, either. As much as he wanted to help, he wasn’t equipped to deal with that role reversal.

He shot another look at the bags, wishing she was having fun unboxing her loot, grinning like a fiend, yelling at him for getting it all wrong, instead of shedding tears because of some trash individual who had just broken up with her via text message. On New Year’s, to boot. That was why he’d rather stay away from people. That was why he didn’t want to get involved with normies and their normie bullshit.

“How did you even come to like such a piece of human garbage?” he wondered out loud, hoping it would count as an oblique show of support.

With one single look, she made it clear that, at that moment, she didn’t want any feedback on her love life. After that, Itaru had been keeping his thoughts to himself.

And those thoughts were terrifying. It could have been him lying there, heartbroken, thrown away. It could have been him falling apart because of someone not caring as much as he’d expected. He’d repeated similar scenarios in his mind way too many times to count, but those were but abstract images. His high school days? No, those feelings had been dulled out by time, too. They were but a memory. None of that compared to watching someone experience that pain in the flesh. If it was unbearable to him, he could only imagine what she must be going through.

“Hey, Sis…”

“Yeah?” she responded in a watery, nasal voice.

“Er.” What to say? Something cliché like ‘it’ll get better’? ‘You’re strong, you’ll make it through’? _‘I’m sorry’?_

Before he could come up with a final answer, she lightly patted him on the knee. “It’s fine, I know. Thanks.”

“Mm.”

Yeah, he sucked at providing support. There was a reason he preferred to focus on tanks and pure DPS classes. He still did what he could, sitting still despite his legs starting to cramp up, gingerly caressing her hair with an uncertain hand. If nothing else, he was confident that she’d just slap it away whenever she got tired.

“I’m going to make that bastard wish he was never born. Just you wait and see.”

He grinned, ironically relieved that she was back to her usual frightening self. “I want the full report when you’re done. Sounds like it’s gonna be great.”

His sister turned around to look at him directly in the eye. “Count on it.”

Her determined eyes were a stark contrast to the runny mess that was her face, almost to the point of hilarity. He sort of considered making a sarcastic remark about waterproof makeup, but he knew that wouldn’t help either of them. Also, he valued his own life, to a certain point.

She let her head drop back on his lap. “Men are such pigs.”

“All humans are pigs.”

“Mhm.” He raised his eyebrows at the plain assent. Them agreeing on anything wasn’t a regular occurrence. “You know what? Maybe you were right the whole time. Your 2D waifus will never leave you or make you cry.”

Her despondent words stabbed him right through the heart. He wanted to hug her, squeeze her tight, tell her that he knew way too well where those thoughts came from, that she wasn’t alone. _I get you_ , he wanted to say. He didn’t have the guts to.

“What’s with the plural? Sacchi’s my one and only,” he said instead.

“Yeah, whatever.” She turned around again, this time wearing the tiniest smile and making grabby hands at him. “Let me dress her up, come on.”

That request made him happy. He was happy to be able to help somehow, and doubly so if it was with one of his favorite things. As he was about to hand her the phone, however, his stingy side decided to pay a visit. “Don’t roll without asking first, okay?”

“Don’t worry, I’m not touching your hard-earned virtual currency.”

“Hey, it’s a serious matter.”

“Just hand it over, geez.”

He did as asked. He watched her go through the pixel closet, picking and choosing garments and accessories, replacing them, creating diverse outfits, each of them just as lovely. It was rather relaxing. Healing, even, despite the fact that thinking about the pieces’ jumbled attributes and overall low score deeply hurt his soul. He begrudgingly admitted that, stats notwithstanding, his sister had a way better eye for that stuff, and that her outfits made Sacchi look dazzling in a way he’d never manage. Must be an inherent normie skill. Either way, even a committed normie like her was enjoying the game, and it gave him hope that, after years of being at odds most of the time, they’d finally have something to bond over.

“Want me to help you set up an account?”

“I can do it myself, I’m not illiterate.”

“I know that, it was just an excuse to do something together!” he groaned.

She chuckled. “See, so you can be sweet if you want to.”

“Aren’t I always sweet?”

“No, you’re always bitter and salty.”

“Tch.”

His legs were definitely cramping up, but he tried not to think too much about it. He wasn’t moving.

Neither of them had had much rest the night before, and the day’s experiences didn’t help, so it wasn’t that surprising that, with each passing minute, her movements were becoming progressively smaller, sluggish. He himself felt a little buzzed out. He leaned back on the cushions and let his eyelids drop, relaxing, ready to let exhaustion take him to dreamland. He thought he might have heard a buzz from far away. Bah, he’d check that out later. For now, he just wanted to sleep, sleep…

Wait. A buzz?

He was shaken fully awake by a violent chill. The first thing he did was look at his phone, still in his sister’s hands, still operating, and apparently with LIME open. All he got to see was the view from the top of a vertiginous slope and a _youre coming along next time btw_ before he noticed her typing a reply.

_please spare him, he’d fall down and break his spine before even getting on the lift|_

“Aaah—!”

In a panic, he did what he could to reclaim the phone, but his sister adeptly turned on her stomach, keeping it out of his reach as she sent the message. It was no use, anyway: she’d seen it. She’d seen it, and she’d squeeze the very last droplet of juice out of it. He was glad she seemed to be recovering at a miraculous speed, but did it really have to be at his expense? Apparently so.

Just as predicted, she darted off his lap and started yelling into the corridor.

“Mom! Hear this, mom! Itaru’s texting someone! Like, actual flesh and blood someone!”

He heard footsteps rushing from the other end of the house, and his mother was soon sliding into the room, making _that_ face. That face that made her look as if she’d just rolled a 99 on a rare drop and was about to bag something good. He knew he’d gotten it from somewhere.

Either way, he suddenly felt even more tired. That was going to be a long, long day.

 

→→→

 

_check this one out, been hearin good things about it  
price aint too bad either_

He clicked the link. He saw the price of the tasting menu. He staggered.

“Okay, let’s calm down. It’s fine. It’s fine, I can do this. It’s only 680 gems… four and a half 10-pulls… per person…”

 

→→→

 

It had been one needlessly elaborate, excessive, delicious meal.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t mad at Banri for showing up in his ripped jeans and trademark ugly print T-shirt when he’d spent quite a while worrying about proper attire, and then another while making himself look presentable. What was up with that? Was he flaunting his wealth there, making a statement? Telling the world that you can afford to look like a hobo when you’re already filthy rich?

“You could’ve put on a decent shirt, at least,” he reproached him as they walked out of the restaurant, still sore from the hole that the bill had left in his wallet and in his sanity.

“Why, though? They let me in, what does it matter.”

Itaru let out a big sigh. “Okay, fair enough.”

He was sure Banri would find a way to make a shirt and slacks look just as tremendous, anyway. Not just that: had he been in a suit of his choice, the staff might have actually denied him entry. Ah, it was rather entertaining to picture them recoiling in fear at the garish, menacing sight, discreetly checking for any missing pinkies. In any case, Banri was right, to begin with. Why was he so concerned about the level of formality of his clothes? Was the corporate world starting to brainwash him with its sickening politesse? Fuck that.

Still, it felt weird to walk beside him in that outfit, with his uptight suit and starched shirt. He looked down at his feet, clad in shiny dress shoes, rhythmically clacking against the pavement as they made their way through the quiet streets.

“…But you have to admit we make an odd pair like this.”

“An elite businessman and an elite delinquent,” he stated, rather pleased with himself.

Itaru snorted. “Did you just call yourself elite?”

“Well, I mean… I am, no?”

“You’re unbelievable,” he chuckled, shaking his head in mock disbelief.

“I’m not wrong,” Banri pointed out, then he immediately shielded himself from a half-hearted slap. “Really, though, does it bug you? You worried about what people think when they see us and that kinda stuff?”

“To a point,” he admitted. “The contrast is enough to be fishy.”

“Fishy how?”

“Either they think you’re a thug about to shake me down, or that I’m a lonely perv paying you for sexual favors.”

A smirk. “I’d do that for free, though.”

“Not funny.” Banri simply started laughing, getting even louder once he flipped him the bird. “No, seriously, get lost!”

“Tch. Thought you’d be in a better mood after a nice dinner.”

“You thought I’d be in a better mood after spending a fortune?!”

“C’mon, the price was fine.”

“It wasn’t fine!”

“Shoulda just put your credit card down without looking at the bill, then.”

Itaru narrowed his eyes. “Quite the ballsy thing to say, coming from the one who got treated.”

“Bah, anyway, it was worth it, no? I liked it a lot, at least.”

He grinned, wide and bright, and Itaru realized that he couldn’t win. Not against that smile, not against that weirdly adorable tanned nose outlining the snow goggles he’d been wearing. He sighed again, smiling a bit himself.

“How’d you find this place anyway?”

“Ah, a friend insisted we try it. Something about the nice atmosphere and so on.”

“Same friend that told you about the burger place?”

“Heh, yeah. Guy’s like a walking review site.”

“Well, I admit he’s pretty good at what he’s doing.”

“Ain’t he?” Banri beamed.

 

They kept walking, making their way through the quiet streets without much rush. The whole weekend was still ahead of them. Banri prattled on about nearby leisure spots, choice info graciously provided by the walking review site man. He seemed to have fun telling Itaru about countless eateries (he’d adamantly refuse to step inside any of those for a while, if he happened to ask), upcoming concerts, flea markets, some hill close by that was, supposedly, a great stargazing spot, known only by a handful. Stargazing? Was that supposed to be fun? How were any of these outdoors activities any fun?

“Ah. How did it end, by the way?”

“How did what end?”

“You know, when your mom and sister intercepted your phone.”

“Oh, that.” How was he supposed to guess? How did that even relate to the topic at hand? Ah well, whatever. “They thought you were my girlfriend.”

He purposefully omitted the rest. Banri didn’t need to know they’d been taking bets about his relationship status, nor did he need to know about his sister’s _are you mentally prepared for when she inevitably ditches you for someone who’s less of a nerd_. And he especially didn’t need to know about the fact that, even after he told them the mysterious Neo was a man, they refused to believe he was just a friend. No, they were having way too much fun for that.

Banri snickered. “Girlfriend, huh. So, did I get their blessing, or…?”

“Blessing?” He snorted. “They cared more about the entertainment the idea provided.”

“Ha, sounds like your family alright.”

“Am I really that much of a self-serving prick?”

“Yeah, but you’re fine that way.”

“Bah.”

He playfully bumped Banri’s shoulder. Banri bumped his with extra momentum, sending him a couple steps to the side, and then he bumped into something soft, at least softer than a wall. What was that horrible feeling of déjà vu?

That time he was experienced, so he withdrew with an apology instead of a curse. And indeed, right before him stood some of the nastiest looking hoodlums he’d ever seen: upgraded versions of the ones he’d run into the previous summer, all of them with their crappy dye jobs, metallic accessories, and the odd blunt weapon. While the situation was ridiculously familiar, the faces were all new. Delinquents A’ to E’, then. Oh, wait, there were a couple extras. Thank you for screwing up the notation, guys.

“Settsu,” the biggest, baddest one said. Somehow, he wasn’t surprised they were acquainted. “Been a while.”

“Oh, it’s you guys,” Banri responded in a voice that had no trace of amiability. “Evenin’.”

“Don’t you ‘evening’ me, you piece of shit. Where the fuck have you been hiding all this time?!”

“Dunno, places? Wasn’t hiding though.”

“We’ve been looking for you.”

“Well sorry then. Been busy doing better stuff.”

“Doing better stuff like your buddy here?” Delinquent A’ quipped, with a quick nod towards Itaru. “Didja quit to make your debut as a rentboy?”

His heart sunk. So, from an observer’s point of view, they did look like they were engaging in compensated dating, huh. It was because of his stupid suit, wasn’t it? It had to be the suit. That and his stupid gelled hair making him look like some depraved executive. Dammit. He was too embarrassed to even feel offended.

“Hell nah. But y’know, at least people would be willing to pay for _my_ company.”

“Heh. Pro rentboy.”

He hid behind Banri’s back to stifle a laugh. Fortunately for them, the big guy seemed to be thick-headed enough not to realize he was being ragged on, though some of the smarter cronies were giving Banri some really ugly looks. They should withdraw from that alley, and preferably soon.

“Told you we were going to settle the score with the bastards from West High, right?” the big guy continued. “Told you you better show the fuck up, right?!”

“And? I wasn’t available.”

For once, his smug demeanor didn’t annoy Itaru. Annoyed wasn’t the word; he was feeling alarmed, instead. Those thugs wouldn’t take kindly to his attitude. He tugged on Banri’s sleeve, hoping to get his attention.

“Let’s go, we have no business here.”

“It’s fine, I got this,” he whispered back. Considering the number and size of his potential opponents, Itaru doubted he did, even more so when his very presence acted as a handicap.

“That was an ugly fight, man, they were vicious. Look at what they did to Mobuya’s face!” He pointed at Delinquent B’, who was sporting a nasty slash across his right cheek and looking rather proud of the direct mention.

“Yo, Mobuya. Lookin’ cool.”

“Man, they gave us a real pounding, and all because some prissy boy was too busy sucking cock to grace us with his presence. We lost half our turf because of you, what do you have to say to that?!”

Banri shrugged. “What is it to me? I’ve never been with you guys, I was just helping out ‘cause I was bored.”

“You think you can just ditch us whenever you feel like it?!”

“Uh, yeah?”

“Aaa _aaah_?!?”

“Hey, Boss,” Delinquent C’ chimed in. “Do we teach him a lesson already, or…?”

While the boss considered his options, Itaru pulled on Banri’s arm once again, urging him to move. At that point, he was starting to get too terrified to properly enjoy the cliché exchange, and he’d rather they both made it home in one piece.

“Can we go already?”

“Oi, Settsu, I’m giving you one last chance. Drop on your knees and beg us to take you back, and maybe we’ll let you off with just a couple broken ribs.”

“Dude, are you hard of hearing? I’m not with you. I’m not interested. Been telling you from day one.”

“You better believe I’m serious, mate,” the big guy snarled.

“Yeah, yeah, I know you’re desperate and all. Thing is, I’d rather become a full time rentboy than hang out with you anymore. Sorry, bro.”

With Delinquent A’ looking closer to an angered gorilla with each word that reached his ears, Itaru was sure that they’d overstayed their welcome in that alley. They needed to go, and fast.

“Ban—”

“Actually, guess what, I’ll do just that. I’ll make sure to give my business card to yer mom.”

Bad. That was bad. Itaru hung his head in his palms.

Unsurprisingly, the big thug wouldn’t let that one pass, and ruled that it was time to throw hands. Letting out an outraged growl, he took one slow, heavy swing at Banri, who effortlessly dodged it with a nimble sidestep. The world went into slow motion as the aggressor lost his balance and plummeted onto the floor, just as slow and heavy. Before he even got to taste the pavement, the rest of the gang, who’d been watching the scene like a bunch of hungry raptors, finally jumped in.

He could only watch in horror as blows were exchanged across his field of view. Banri managed to dodge most of them, ducking and evading punches and kicks while delivering a few of his own, dancing around the seven thugs with swift moves, tenacious yet elegant. Itaru could imagine being fascinated by them if the situation wasn’t so real, so tangibly dangerous. He would have been fine never witnessing a live street brawl.

It was seven against one. There were no turns in that battle, no recovery items, no special abilities. It was seven thugs against one boy; it was clear he couldn’t hold out forever. As skilled as he was, his raw power was limited, his moves were limited, and so it only took one misstep for the tide to turn. Banri’s distressed look as the gang finally overwhelmed him burned into his eyes, and yet all he did was stand there uselessly, limbs frozen, watching as someone he cared about got ready to receive the beating of his life. React. React already, you piece of shit.

“Itaru-san, run!”

Run? Run _how_? Run _where_? “I—”

“Stop staring at me like that, you dumbass, I said scram!”

No, that wasn’t happening. No way he was leaving Banri to fend for himself, outnumbered as he was. Why weren’t they coming for him, anyway? Did he look too weak to even bother with? If only he could be a threat, too. If only he had a way to help. He had to do something. Something, anything.

 _Wrong_ , Banri had once said, tapping his third knuckles. _You’re supposed to punch with these._

Third knuckles. Alright. He balled up a benumbed fist, emptied his mind, and charged forward, wincing in pain when his weak-ass punch came into contact with the shoulder of one of the thugs. He’d never intended to do any actual damage; all his intervention would do was give Banri some breathing room by acting as a temporary decoy. It was a shit strategy, he knew that. He had no armor or defensive abilities IRL, he was the very antithesis of tanky, but it was the best he could do.

The first time was supposed to be the hardest, and he’d survived. So far so good. He tried aiming the next blow at someone’s cheekbone. However, before it landed, he got shoved out of the way, propelled into the wall. The hit knocked the wind out of his lungs.

“Itaru-san!!”

In the one second he’d taken to recover—it had just felt like one second to him, at least—Banri had somehow clawed his way out of the fray to run to his side, his panicked expression quickly shifting to one of relief once he’d seen him look up. He looked terrible. He had an ugly scratch on his right cheek, and it was unclear whether the blood running down his chin came from his nose or the cut on his lip.

Right, wounds. Damage. The fight wasn’t over yet. He made to run back in, ready to finish the job somehow, but Banri stopped him.

“Stay put,” he hissed right before receiving a hit on his lower back. Of course their opponents wouldn’t give them any respite. “Ugh, fuck!”

He shook his head, attempting to wrestle out of his grip. “I’m fine, I can still—”

“Listen,” he insisted, pressing down on his shoulders. “One of these shitheads is recording this, you don’t want your face out in the open.”

“Wh…”

“Oi, Settsu, we’re not done with you yet!”

Banri ignored their irate calls, wrapping himself over Itaru’s huddled frame instead as the blows kept coming, restraining his arms to keep them out of the way.

“Now stay put,” he commanded through gritted teeth.

“But—”

“Just fucking do it!”

He obeyed, and he hated himself for it. He felt so powerless like that, curled up on the floor, his forehead pressed against Banri’s chest, feeling every thud, hearing every hiss that escaped through his teeth as he endured each hit and each word of mockery. He had trouble wrapping his mind around all that. That wasn’t supposed to be happening. Things were never supposed to go that way. He was just a boring homebody, and Banri was just a cheeky brat, he wasn’t supposed to be on the receiving end of such unbridled violence. There had to be a mistake somewhere. Someone abort that timeline, please. Someone please come help. That was just a nightmare, right? It had to be a nightmare. He’d soon wake up and curse the world for having to go back to the office, just like every damn morning.

And yet, no matter how hard he tried to will himself awake, nothing would change. Banri was still shielding him with his body, still gritting his teeth to mute the whimpers those blows were tearing out of his throat. And what was he doing, in the meantime? Nothing. Absolutely nothing, just let him take a beating as he sat there, numb and useless.

 

Maybe a minute passed, maybe three hours. The thugs got tired of them after a while, bored with the lack of reaction. They left, not before sending a few more derisive comments their way, but they withdrew nonetheless. It was over. It was finally over.

As soon as they disappeared around the corner, Banri’s body went limp, collapsing on top of him, beaten and heavy. The breaths he drew were ragged, shallow, heartbreaking in a way he didn’t know possible.

“Hey…”

There was a lot he should be saying, but nothing seemed good enough. There was a lot he should be doing, too, but the experience had left him feeling incapable of anything, and, above all, unworthy of trying.

“Fi…ve… minutes…” A few broken coughs followed.

The metallic scent of blood woke him up. His hand flew to his pocket. “I’m calling an ambulance.”

“No.” Banri pawed at his phone with all his might, which wasn’t much, attempting to slap it out of his grip. “M’fine.”

“You’re not fine.”

“Am.”

As if trying to prove his point, he pressed down on him, urging him to stay put and let him rest. Itaru ended up complying, even though all those potential broken ribs, punctured lungs and busted kidneys didn’t leave his mind. However, he didn’t have the energy to argue anymore. He would have to trust Banri’s judgment.

And thus he just stayed sprawled on the floor, slightly shifting into a more comfortable position for both of them, trying to keep his darker thoughts under control as he waited for the beaten knight to regain enough strength to move.

“Itaru-san,” he finally said, his voice weakened and husky, “take me home.”

 

Bit by bit, they limped their way to his car. Banri leaned most of his weight on his shoulder as he advanced with shaky steps, and he did his best to support him, even though he had no idea where to place his hand on a body that had become a minefield of bruises. He asked, in the end.

“Dunno, wherever,” Banri mumbled.

“That doesn’t help.” He tried wrapping an arm around his waist, tight enough to keep him propped up, but no more. “Does this work?”

“Yeah.” He sniffled. “Think I got some blood on your jacket.”

“Shhh. Focus on walking now.”

In any other occasion, he might have joked (joked?) about making him pay for the dry cleaning, but he didn’t have the heart to.

He pulled up Banri’s hood with his free hand, an attempt to hide his bloodied face from any curious onlookers. It didn’t matter much, as all they encountered was a couple of stray cats feasting on a trash can. Thinking about it, it was a curious choice to establish a fancy restaurant right next to such a dingy neighborhood. Still, he was grateful for the solitude, as he wasn’t in any condition to deal with anyone. It was hard to come up with a moment in his life when he’d felt this shaken.

 

→

 

“Oh wow, you look like shit.”

“Love ya too.”

“Thank goodness for tinted windows, huh.” He forced a smile as he pulled the seatbelt around Banri. Once he’d missed the buckle for the third time, he noticed how shaky his hands were.

He got a small, breathy laugh as an answer. To his comment or to his failed attempts, he didn’t know.

 

They drove in silence, broken only by the occasional hushed groan or sniffle. Itaru kept stealing glances at the passenger seat through the rear view mirror, as if to make sure Banri’s very existence wouldn’t slip through his fingers while he looked away. His conscience felt heavier with every sound coming out of his lips. Why did he have to go and play the hero? Just why? …The answer was clear, wasn’t it. A hero’s job was to protect the helpless. He shouldn’t have been helpless.

Yet another debt he could never repay. The pile was growing tall enough to start collapsing on itself.

 

→

 

They somehow stumbled their way upstairs. Once in the living room, Banri dropped his full weight on the couch, as graceful as a sack of potatoes, letting out a pained groan once he collided with the leather cushions.

“Ugh, fuck! Fuck me, this hurts like a motherfucking _bitch_!!!”

“You could’ve chosen not to attempt a death drop when your back’s already in pieces.”

“Mmmnnnrgh.”

Hearing him complain with such vigor made Itaru breathe easy, enough to shake some numbness away, at least. The repairing task before him was somewhat daunting, and he sucked at support just as much as he did the previous week, but being under that roof let him relax enough to believe he could give it a decent shot. It was back to just the two of them, after all, and they were alive and… yeah, not well, but well enough to be alive.

Still, there was something eerie about walking around Banri’s house by himself, navigating those vaguely familiar corridors as he retrieved the first aid kit and gathered the necessary supplies. Had he turned right earlier, or left? Where the hell were the light switches? He daydreamed about a day when he’d know the floor plan like the back of his hand; however, in the interim, he was feeling rather lost.

 

Banri hissed.

“Shit, sorry.”

“Not your fault. Blame the alcohol.”

He snorted and kept on cleaning the cuts on his face, clumsily, his hands still shakier than he’d expected them to be. “I didn’t peg you as the type to enjoy terrible puns.”

“Desperate measures. Need you to,” another hiss, and a grimace, “relax somehow.”

Itaru let out a wry laugh. “So you get beaten up and I’m the one being comforted.”

“Guess your pride took a hit now too. Heh.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He was tempted to press the cotton against the wound as hard as he could. “Now shut your mouth and let me try to fix you up.”

 

And so he continued fixing Banri up to the best of his abilities, following his offhand instructions and his own best judgment. He sort of felt sorry for him for having to put up with his amateurish mending. He wasn’t a particularly skilled healer in any game, and much less in real life. That job was way tougher than targeting someone and spamming the same couple buttons.

Ah, healing. If only he’d learned some basic cure spells at school, too. Those would come in handy right then. As things were, however, he had no choice but to rely on antibiotics and dressings, even though he’d gladly trade those for five full hotbars on a class he’d never played.

“Alright, I think we’re done here,” he announced as he finished taping some gauze on Banri’s grazed cheek. “Just don’t sue me if you happen to get a scar marring your handsome features.”

He chuckled. “It’s fine, Doc, I’ve been through worse.”

“So you say.” He then noticed Banri poking at the hem of his T-shirt, attempting to lift it up. “Wait, let me help. Don’t move more than strictly necessary.”

“Sure.”

He’d offered to help full of good intentions, but he wasn’t exactly sure how to go about it. That was going to be a delicate process. A terribly awkward one, too, if Banri didn’t stop staring at him with that smug face of his. He began to pull on the cloth, slowly, noticing it was somewhat heavier than one would expect from cotton. He hoped, out loud, that it was soaked with sweat and not blood.

“Guess we’ll find out,” Banri answered.

“Reassuring as ever.”

“Bah, just chill already, man.”

As he struggled against the urge to smack him, he kept lifting the T-shirt up. Removing a piece of clothing shouldn’t be such an arduous task, but boy was it difficult. He needed to peel the damp fabric off the tender skin without pulling too hard, make sure it didn’t brush against it once removed, move to the next inch, repeat the process, keep direct contact to a minimum all the while. Real life would benefit so much from an unequip button.

“Just rip it off, I’m not gonna die.”

“I refuse.”

“Whatever, then. I’m having fun watching you.”

“You’re not supposed to have fun, this is a medical emergency.”

“You’d have killed me already if so.”

“Well excuse me for not being a trained physician. How about I kill you now?”

At least, Banri obediently lifted his arms once he’d reached the sleeves. He’d rather he didn’t have to move at all, but that would be a tough one without cooperation. All he could do was try and make it fast, let his arms drop sooner. Sliding his hands into the sleeves, he let a few fingers rest on the underside of Banri’s arms, barely tickling his skin, and began to push up.

“Wow, that’s sexy.”

“Shut up, rentboy.”

Banri snickered as they made a collective effort to slide the garment off his arms, then pull it off his head. Of course it had to get stuck on his nose, and of course it had to pluck out the bloody cotton ball from his nostril in the process. And of course it had to fall on Itaru’s pants, leaving a dark stain, tiny yet deep. Whatever. By then, it was just another one among the many on his suit.

“…We didn’t really think this through, did we,” he groused, adjusting the gauze on Banri’s cheek. “Should’ve started with the part where you stripped.”

“You mean the part where you stripped me.”

“How terribly indecent of me.”

He leaned back on the couch, catching a moment of respite after that bloody rollercoaster, amassing strength for what was yet to come. He had yet to see Banri’s back. He hadn’t dared to look when fumbling with the T-shirt, and he still was afraid to do so, as embarrassing as that was.

Banri mirrored his moves, also reclining on the soft cushioned back, not seeming to care much if he got it dirty. There were more important matters at hand, yes, but it was just too funny not to notice. For all he knew, that single piece of furniture might be worth more than his whole living room put together. Then again, he wasn’t one to speak, considering he was sitting on it after dragging his ass across the floor of some dingy back alley… but come on, a bloodied up teenager unwinding on a genuine leather couch. You didn’t get to see that every day.

A bloodied up teenager, huh.

He watched his chest rise and fall, noticing he was keeping his breaths shallow. No wonder. Even breathing itself must be painful, in his state. With a heart growing heavier by the moment, he tried shooting him a weak smile, and Banri returned it with a half-lidded, tired look, one that didn’t match his constant quips and taunts at all. It was so damn obvious that he was putting up a brave front. They both were. However, Itaru was well aware that he’d gotten off easy. He’d been able to skip out on physical pain, for the most part, but the man next to him hadn’t been so lucky.

No. Not lucky. It wasn’t about luck. Shielding him had been a conscious decision; luck had nothing to do with it.

If only he had the power to make it all better. If only he could do more. He’d do anything, he was ready to offer him whatever he needed. Hell, at that point, if he asked, he’d even kneel down on the floor and suck h—no, nonono, hell no, that thought didn’t just cross his mind. Not even as a metaphor. Yeah, he’d be willing to do anything to repay him, that still stood, but that, just… not that.

He shot up and began to rummage through the first aid kit again, looking for extra material. At least, facing away as he was, he might be able to hide his incandescent cheeks. Better not to count on it, though, and start looking for an excuse.

“Come on, lie down. Let’s take care of the other side.”

“Aye aye siiir.”

He heard some rustling as Banri repositioned himself. He shot him a side glance, just enough to see his T-shirt bunched up under his arms, acting like a cushion. Then, he felt his patient’s eyes setting back on him. Worst. That was the worst. If only he could disappear.

“Yer all red.”

“Am I?”

“Yeah. All the way to your ears.”

“Well, it’s kinda hot in here.” Itaru took that chance to undo a couple buttons on his shirt. He wasn’t lying, the room did feel too hot after all that fretting and flailing around, but he wouldn’t complain about excessive heating when there was a topless convalescent person lying on the couch.

“It’s me. I know I’m hot.”

He turned around with an eye roll, supplies in hand. “Yeah, very—oh Jesus fuck.”

As he stared at the horrifying spectacle of red and blue, a lump started growing in his throat. He’d seen Banri’s back before. That wasn’t his back, that was carnage.

“Not a lot of blood, is there?”

Itaru swallowed the lump. It respawned immediately. “Ah, no. Just a few scratches,” he replied, faking a cool voice. “It’s the bruises you should worry about.”

“Thought so.”

Itaru sat on the edge of the couch as he repeated the wound cleaning process, his feeling of guilt growing with each spot he treated, with each hissed curse. There had to be something he could have done to prevent that. He could have tried harder to escape Banri’s grip, be the one shielding him instead. He could have run when he was prompted to, give him a better fighting chance instead of being a hindrance. He could have pulled harder on his arm to drag him out of that alley. He could have threatened to call the police. He could have parked his car somewhere else. He could have chosen another day to eat out. It all seemed so clear after the fact, so easy. In most possible scenarios, Banri didn’t end up lying there, bruised and beaten. His choices had contributed to that outcome, and those had been lousy enough to take them to Ending F, with no possibility to go back or reload. Further proof that 2D > RL.

Well, he could bemoan it all he wanted, but their reality wasn’t going to change. It was a fact that Banri’s back was a mess, and it was a fact that it wouldn’t be a mess if he hadn’t been forced to protect him. Might as well cut it out with the flashbacks and dwelling, and focus on the task at hand instead. At least he’d be making himself useful.

 

“Right, what’s next? Got an ice pack ready for emergencies or something?”

Banri made a slight nod towards the first aid supplies. “Light blue box.”

There were a bunch of products that fit that too brief description, but he supposed he was looking for some sort of analgesic balm. Cooling gel, swelling, pain relief. Yup, those keywords seemed to fit the bill. He opened the box and eyed the tube, unsure that some paltry ointment would be enough to ease the pain. It didn’t look like it would stand a chance against that hideous purplish mural, at least. That didn’t mean he wasn’t willing to use anything on hand.

“How much do I take?”

“Dunno, what’s it say again?”

He checked the package. “It says ‘apply generously over affected area’.”

“Then apply generously over the affected area.”

“I’m afraid the word ‘generously’ isn’t part of my vocabulary.”

He heard a weak chuckle that turned into a cough. “Don’t make me laugh, man. It hurts.”

“Sorry.” Hesitantly, he planted his knees back on the couch. “Er, tell me if I’m doing it wrong. I think it goes without saying by now, but I’m a complete noob at this.”

“You’ll be fine.”

Itaru spread some of the gel in his hands, getting ready to set his fingers on the swollen skin.

Ah. Skin.

That was when it hit him: he was about to touch another human being. Gee, it had only taken him a whole evening of contact to realize. By then, it should have been too late to get spooked by the idea of laying his hands on someone else’s bare skin, but no, it was never too late, apparently.

“What’s wrong? Does it look that bad?”

Aaand his freakout had taken long enough to alarm Banri. Good job.

“There’s uh, there’s one shaped like a shoe sole.” Nice save. Nice save?

“For real?”

“Nah. Still looks terrible, though.”

And it looked terrible enough for him to finally get over it and put his hands on the bruised back, telling himself it was out of necessity. Banri shuddered under his touch, be it due to pain or the startling contrast between the cool gel and his hot skin. His body had always felt warmer than Itaru’s own, somehow, but that level of heat was far beyond the usual. It pained him to imagine those millions of cells working under stress beneath his strokes, doing their best to repair the damage. Out of respect for them, he should hurry up applying the gel and let them work in peace. However, he couldn’t help but hesitate when his hands traveled towards Banri’s lower back, or giggle at the squishy feeling of the lotion caught in that bit of webbing between his fingers.

“There’s something kinda lewd about this whole thing.”

Banri laughed through his nose. “Yeah, maybe. You make a great masseur, y’know.”

“As if.”

“So, does the plan include a happy ending?”

He returned the laugh, feeling some more color creep onto his cheeks. “The happiest ending you can opt for is not getting murdered for this comment.”

“Hey, you started it!”

“Yeah, alright,” he chuckled. “I’ll take the blame for this one.”

No amount of kidding would overwrite the effect those bruises had on him, though. He still wanted to apologize over and over, thank him over and over, but a few measly words were not enough to settle the score. He could repeat he was sorry as many times as he wanted, those marks wouldn’t budge. All he could do was assist with the recovery, try to hold it together through all those shudders and whimpers, tell himself that they’d both grow stronger from the experience, as long as they didn’t break. That, with time, the events of that night would become nothing but anecdote fodder.

 

“Alright, I got you all nice and slippery.”

Banri cackled again at his words, then immediately winced at the pain. “Sadist.”

“I guess. As a former bully victim, it’s my duty to perpetuate the vicious cycle of violence.”

“Wow, that took a grim turn.”

On a second thought, that poor attempt at dark humor might have been a rather terrible choice for the occasion. His glum was showing, and neither of them needed that, dammit. “I guess we’re done here?”

Banri responded with a hum, which he took as a yes. He stood back up and looked around, searching for something to wipe the stickiness off his hands.

“…taru-san.”

“Hmm?”

Banri feebly pointed at his jaw. “Here too.”

“Uh.” He glanced at the back of the tube. “Is this safe for use on the face, though?”

“Yeah, c’mon, who cares.”

He didn’t remember Banri taking any punches to the jaw, and he was sure he would have noticed while cleaning the cuts on his face, at the very least. He still did as asked, kneeling next to him and dutifully rubbing the gel on the affected spot. Allegedly affected. With that utterly satisfied look, rather than taking care of a patient, the situation felt closer to scratching a house pet under the chin. Everything pointed to the idea that the insolent brat had just scammed a few caresses out of him, just because.

“Are you sure you need me to do this?”

“Uh huh.”

“Somehow I have the feeling you’re trolling me again.”

“Mnnnh.”

It was most likely true. Then again, what did it matter? After all he’d been through, the least he could do was offer him a little bit of tenderness, if that was what he required. They both knew that, if asked up front, he’d have wriggled out of it for sure.

“…bit more to the left…”

Itaru chuckled, scratching the spot to his right. “What’s next, you’re gonna ask for a magic spell to make it better?”

“If you’re offering.”

“I’m not offering.”

“Now I want it.”

Itaru stopped in his tracks to shake his head at the smirking pest. They had an impromptu staring contest. He lost. He spent a few seconds looking away, cursing his life and his choices, and then resumed the rubbing with a strained grin and a scowl that only seemed to get deeper by the second.

“P… pain, pain, go awaaay…!” He burst into laughter, trying to hide behind his sleeves. He felt so silly. “Fuck, I can’t do this.”

Banri was laughing just as hard, shaking, even, unable to stop. His mirth soon turned into pain. “Owww, dammit…” He spilled a few tears, too, which Itaru caught right before they fell into his clotting lip. “Nice catch.”

“Looks like the charm’s doing a bang up job. How splendid.”

“It’s ‘cause you didn’t round it off with a kiss.”

He snorted. “Okay, yeah, screw you.” There suddenly was a lost butterfly wreaking havoc in his stomach, and he hoped it wouldn’t show.

Banri started laughing even harder, and wincing even harder, too. “Ah shit, this hurts.”

“You did this one to yourself.”

“Worth it.”

So he said, but Itaru seriously doubted that bugging him was worth that pained grimace. No, it was definitely not worth it. He waited a bit, hoping to see that frown soften with time, but it didn’t seem to be happening.

“This is the stupidest question you’ll ever hear, but anyhow. Are you alright?”

“Yeah.” He sniffled. “Always gets worse after a while.”

“Hmmm.” _Always_ , huh. He wondered how many times he’d been through the same. “Let’s get you some real painkillers.”

Banri snorted. “Real painkillers…”

“Yup. The ones that’ll knock you out.”

As Banri responed with a soft laugh and some indistinct mumble, he wiped the remains of cooling gel on his pants (bah, they were full of bloodstains anyway) to rummage through the supplies again. Oh, that one. That was exactly what he needed, however…

“Tch. Why would you keep an empty box?”

He chucked it aside. With a burst of inspiration, he checked his wallet. Nothing there, either. He mentally scoured through his car’s glove compartment, hoping he might have shoved something usable inside at some point. Used prepaid cards, a bottle of soda. Unfortunately, his past self hadn’t had that much foresight. No choice but to venture outside, then. He whipped out his phone, ready to make a few searches. He was assaulted by a bunch of full stamina notifications, too, but he had no time for those.

“Time for a fetch quest, then. Where’d you leave the keys?”

Banri made a feeble sound of protest. He leaned closer, listening carefully, not wanting him to overexert himself when even attempting to speak was painful.

“Stay,” he heard.

Ah crap, the butterflies. The butterflies were eating his insides again. “You sure about that? I know for a fact you’re going to hate yourself soon if you don’t take anything. I mean, you must be hating yourself enough right now.”

“Stay here.”

It was the wrong choice, he was perfectly aware, but he couldn’t deny him. He sighed. “…Okay.”

Unable to get rid of that prickly sensation in his stomach, he sat on the floor, leaning his cheek against the soft leather of the couch. He looked up to check up on Banri. He was breathing with some difficulty, but breathing nonetheless. Might as well take a moment to catch his breath, too, to process it all.

 

As soon as he managed to settle down, he was hit with yet another wave of emotions. He’d known from the start that, if he tried to suppress them, they’d just come back later to bite him in the ass, and lo and behold, that was exactly what was happening: the remainders of fear, the blissful relief, the heartache, the exhaustion, they’d all conspired to drop at once and flatten him like some unnamed piece of heavy machinery. He threw his head back and let out a long, broken groan.

There was a tiny chuckle, and a lethargic finger prodded him on the cheek. “You okay?”

“No. I mean, yes.”

“Huh.”

“Let me be, I’m just… just having a moment.” He inhaled deeply, then exhaled, then inhaled again, even deeper, making sure each and every cell would get its dose of oxygen. “Banri…”

“‘Sup?”

“I’m staying away from melee combat for a while.”

“Pffft…” Banri started shaking yet again. So that comment hit the mark, somehow. That was a very bad thing. “…Ahahaha, hahahaha! Ah, shit! Shit, this hurts…! Ahahahahaha, fuck! Itaru-san, help…!”

“Geez, man, didn’t you have enough already?” He turned around, propping himself up on his knees, and gently pressed on Banri’s arms, keeping him still. “That wasn’t even funny. I mean it, I’m gonna be sticking to my mages for a long, long time.”

“Ehheh.” Cough, wheeze. “Heh.”

“Okay, no more laughing,” he berated him, laughing himself. The irony of it all.

Even when teary-eyed and grimacing in pain, Banri found the energy to retort. “You’re not making it easy.”

Itaru sighed, admitting his part of responsibility, and chose to keep his mouth shut for a while, watching over that sniffling mess with his chin in his hands.

He was unable to keep his musings to himself for long, however.

“I told you we should’ve just ordered delivery.”

Banri let out yet another tiny, breathy laugh, slightly opening one eye to peer at him. “Zero regrets.”

“Liar.”

“Nah.”

“You should have some regrets. No, you better have some, after all that.”

He paused and looked away, making a wry face. “Yeah, well…”

“Well?” Banri just kept frowning, clammed up. “Come on, spill it.”

He moved a little bit, still avoiding eye contact in the least subtle possible way. “…Thought I’d look so cool taking on all seven of them by myself, but yeah… you saw how it went already. Holy shit, I feel so… so fuckin’ lame.”

Lame, he said. If only he knew. “It was lame. Lame and cliché. Also, you know I prefer 2D to live action.”

“Mmm.”

“But,” he continued, and noticed Banri perking up at once, giving him an expectant look. That time, he would tell him what he wanted to hear, even if it was just the nicer half of the whole truth. Still, that partial truth was a truth nonetheless, and he felt brave enough to acknowledge it. “The part where you saved me wasn’t half bad.” He smiled. “I owe you one, Mr. Elite Delinquent. I owe you big time.”

With that, Banri’s expression quickly switched to one of his wide, blinding grins, and he could swear he’d heard the platelets on his lip scream bloody murder as their hard work shattered right in front of them.

“Stop that, stop! Are you trying to reopen the cut?”

“But you—”

“No buts, just stay still, you gremlin. It’s your turn to stay put now.”

“Mkaaay.”

Surprisingly, he did as told, for once.

And still, Itaru felt restless. He himself had the most trouble staying put, in the end. There shouldn’t be anything left to do, anything missing. He’d done everything that was asked of him, Banri’s life wasn’t in any danger, and, at that point, the best he could do would be to let him rest, but he was really damn bad at dealing with silence that night.

“…How do you even manage, though? To laugh after all this.”

“Same way you do,” Banri replied. “Makes it all easier, no?”

“Does it, really?”

“Yeah. It makes you look less spooked.”

“General you, or…?”

“ _You_ you.”

All those smiles, all those jokes, all those painful bursts of laughter. Their purpose had been made clear from the get go, yet he’d somehow forgotten. If only he’d used his goddamn brain. He was so mad. So grateful and so mad.

“Listen. I’d rather you didn’t torture yourself for my sake.”

Banri simply smiled, humming a non-answer which he didn’t like one bit.

Itaru plopped back down on the carpet. His knees hurt from digging into the floor. He shifted a bit closer to lean on the seat cushions and, with his head nestled in his arms, he kept an eye on his resting patient, who studied him back, still wearing that faint smile. His brow was creased, his hair damp with cold sweat and sticking to his forehead. Even with that silly raccoon tan, his face looked so pale. He looked so weary.

And yet, despite being beaten to hell and back, that sparkle in his eyes hadn’t lost a single bit of intensity. He’d been wounded, not defeated. Even in that utterly pitiful state, he looked ready to get back up and fight again for any cause he deemed worthy, he’d fight again and get beaten up again as times as needed. That was both heartening and terrifying.

Shattered, and yet, somehow, unbroken. Itaru had no idea it was possible to look so small and so grown up at the same time.

The surge of fondness building up inside him soon became a torrent, overflowing, choking him. He’d never asked for that. Caring about someone was painful, it made his life needlessly complicated, and it sucked. He’d never agreed to let Banri rewrite his relationship with the world, his outlook on life; maybe his very essence, too, as frightening as the thought was. He’d never asked to change, to be dragged out of his little corner, and yet there he was, dealing with the aftermath of a street brawl, sitting on someone else’s floor, combing through his heart, desperate to find more to give to that someone. What was up with him, really? What the hell was up with that?

“Banri…” He took a deep breath in an attempt to keep his voice under control. It was still threatening to crack. And, worst of all, he had no idea what he wanted to convey, or how to convey it. “I… I punched someone, haha. Can you believe it?”

“Saw it,” he replied with a lazy grin. “So how did it feel?”

“Horrible. I’m not doing it ever again.” He sniffled. He tried to pass it off for a derisive snort, rounding it up with the most casual expression he could produce.

“Hah. Wise choice.”

“You too, don’t…” Okay, his voice had finally cracked. So much for staying cool. “Don’t make me watch something like that ever again.”

“Ah c’mon, it’s nothing,” Banri chuckled.

“It’s not nothing, I was worried sick.”

“Told you I’ve been through worse.”

“Doesn’t matter. Just promise me you won’t try that shit again.”

Banri sluggishly shifted on the couch. Slowly, he held his hand out, offering his pinky with a smirk. “Aight. Promise.”

He gave him a dirty look, aware that it wouldn’t look too convincing with that fat tear rolling down his cheek. “You’re having way too much fun with this.”

The smug bastard just kept wearing his smug smile while languidly wiggling his pinky. Itaru groaned before curling his own finger around Banri’s in a half-assed move, and then he disengaged just as fast.

“There. You better not breach the contract.”

“Won’t,” he mumbled as he snuggled into his makeshift pillow, closing his eyes.

Itaru hurried to wipe his face with a rolled up, bloodstained sleeve, eager to get rid of those fresh tear trails, and went back to standing guard over his drowsy charge. That was when he noticed that wild strand of hair falling across Banri’s face, about to get stuck on the healing cut. On impulse, he lifted a hand to brush it away and tuck it behind his ear. There, out of the way. It wasn’t until he felt those fingers on his wrist that he became fully aware of what he’d done.

“Ah, sorry, I was just…”

He made to pull back, flustered, but even in his panic he realized that the hand coiling around him didn’t mean to drive him away. So he stayed still, as still as he could when his instinct kept screaming at him to flee, and he let Banri’s clammy fingers fumble their way between his, press into the curves of his knuckles with fading strength.

Saying that he was out of his comfort zone would be a huge understatement. There was no comfort zone to return to in that pocket of the universe, period. He was sure that his hands were getting sweaty, and breathing was becoming rather difficult, too. He would endure it, anyway. He would be there for him, if nothing else. He’d stay there, he’d keep their hands linked, and, even when turning around once maintaining eye contact got too hard, he wouldn’t let go, as awkward as he looked and felt with his arm at that weird angle.

Either way, he wasn’t in any condition to worry about posture, not when his heart was beating hard enough to threaten to leap out of his ears.


End file.
